



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

Chap.S.S..... Copyright No. 

ShelMfe« 1^ 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



Intimations of Heaven 



INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 
AND OTHER POEMS 



BY 

HORACE EATON WALKER 



'Ars longn, vita lircris." 



CLAKKMONT K. H. 
GEO. I. PUTNAM CO. 

1S9S 






20652 

Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 189S, by 

HORACE EATON WALKER, 

In tlic office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington, D. C. 




VM-^b^ 



CONTENTS 

INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 

THE LADY OF SANTA ROSA 

MY AIDENN 

SONG OF THE SEA-SHELL 

HELL AND HEAVEN 

AMABEL 



INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 

I gathei'ed me also silver and gold^ and the pccnllar treas- 
ure of kings and of the provinces: I gat me men singers and 
women singers^ and the delights of the sons of men^ as musi- 
cal instruments^ and that of all sorts. — Ecclesiastes. 

I. 

Hear: "Vanit}' of vanities" ; but I : 

Have profit in thy labors all thy days,' 

And tho' the generations pass, the lays 
Of well-spent hours shall sing to thee. The sky 
Shall hold the glorious sun. The winds shall dry 

The earth, go to the torrid south ; the blaze 

Of suns shall blind ; but have a heart and Mays 
Will be as lilting birds that once did fly. 

For in these days we need the largest hope. 

Since Doubt is mountainous in all our lives; 

Many today in horrid darkness grope ; 

But I : As bees about their honeyed hives 

Let joys flock i^ound thy hearts. Fling doubt and stretch 

The portals of thy being, doubting wretch ! 



^ INrniAllONii t)l- IIKAVKN 

II. 

And though all streams run to the emerald sea. 

The sea is still unfilled; but may thy heart 

For verv <2;ladness be o'erfillcd ; and art, 
And song, and merrv-making be to thee 
x'Vn aureole above thy life ; for glee 

Is medicine to every heart. In mart. 

In by-ways, and g-j-een lanes, let jovs upstart, 
And heaven to earth be a realitv ! 

The cup of gladness ; drink it to the dregs, 
As some old bibber lost in happiness. 

And every nest will have its speckled eggs 

Of new delights. Put on thy wedding dress. 

Regain the smiles when love first made thee bride, 

Throw doubt, antl sail with jov the honied tide. 

III. 

All things are full of labor. Bear thv load. 
For in the doing thou shalt have delight, 
The pressed juice of grapes will sweeten, night 

With million stars shall light thee on thv road 

To Edens. Happiness in thine abode 

Shall wear tiaras golden, and "the light 
Not found on sea or land," effulgent white. 

Shall dome above thee, life be one long ode. 

So, drink of gladness ; chase the yellow bow ; 

Find bag of gold ; be happy butterflv 
And woo the gilded glories round thee; go 

Among the clover, where the grass is high, 
.Vnd be a lad again ; the melody 
Of niohtinirales be one lonsf sonir to thee. 



INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 



IV. 



The thing that hath been is to be ; then love, 
And flowery brides, and beauty, holiness 
Of heart and soul. So, bring thy bridal dress. 

And bring the crushed rose that heaved above 

Thy heart at Hymen's altar ; then a dove 
Of Ararat you seemed to him, not less 
Than eve's one star ; while love with gentle stress, 

Pressed life's new hope, and flung the wedding glove. 

So, dare remember all the joys that were, 

The bridal wreath, the lover's stolen kiss. 

And fall upon thy knees once more to her, 
And try to win the beauty and the bliss 

That once were thine when life was fresh and new, 

And every rosv sparkled in its dew. 

V. 

No new thing 'neath the sun ? Ah me ! Ah me I 
Where all our hopes and aspirations.^ Say : 
Shall inky night befoul my marriage lay.^ 

Shall every hope and aspiration be 

Dethroned, and relegated to the sea 

Where Hope's new wings were clipped ? I tell thee, nay 
Fling out Hope's banner to the light of day, 

And sail fore'er with gladsome Jollity ! 

And build thy gilded castles in the air. 

Raise minaret and turret to the sky, 
And on thy tombstone Hope and not Despair ; 

Fling flowerets like a rainbow up on high ; 
Be merry as the flowers, make old things new ; 
'Twill build a hope from heaven down to you ! 



10 . IXTlMATfON* OK HKAVKA 

vr. 

Antl no remembrance? Ah I to thee, gray hairs, 
Shall be oblivion in th}- hoary age ; 
Thou canst no more unclasp the hallowed page 

And read : In orchard 'neath the mellowed pears 

The rosy god entangled me in snares 

Of love ! and there in love's assumed rage 

I stormed and stamped. But last in gilded cage 

He prisoned me, I captured unawares. 

And so he shall not turn these hallowed leaves 
Of memory, shall not dare recall the flowers 

Of bridal days, when 'neath the mouldered eaves 

He plucked them, crowning all the happy hours 

\\'ith life's new wreath, and breathed a talc to her 

That made life's viols sound out merrier. 

VIl. 

And I was king. And so a king am I ; 

I shall not be detlironed. My gilded rod 

Is bright with age. I climb with silvered hod 

The building that I build. The hours may fly, 

The clouds may gather in the rounded sky. 

And thunders crash above me ; flowered sod 
Shall smile in loveliness up to its God ; 

For Hope doth bow above us far on high. 

So, once a king, be king for aye ; let Time 

Roll on in cha\iot car, and days and years ; 

Hold fast thou hast, and life shall rhyme and rhyme 
In one glad song ; and all th_y falling tears 

Will turn to beaded gems, and every thing 

Will grow to beauty like a jeweled spring. 



IXTIMATIOXS i)F ITEAVEX 11 



VIII. 



And he was preacher. Let no tale of woe 

Be preached to me. I' 11 fling iny starry flag 
Against the clouds. Wilt call it tattered rag? 

An emblem of defeat.^ Let tidings go : 

Happiness still spans like overarching bow, 
And he who dares to say m\' golden bag 
Is empty, finds my banner does not sag, 

But floats o'er every hut and bungalow ! 

Go ! the Procession moves apace. The star 
Of hope is on our gilded ensign ; back 

We look and forward. O'er the sanded bar 
Of death we never go. The beaten track 

Of glory, hope, we march with rythmic feet, 

And on our banner is no word Defeat I 

IX. 

I gave mv heart to seek all wisdom. Time 

Flew on. The days were wedded to the years 
In haloed glorv. Here was death with tears. 

And here was love with many a marriage rhyme. 

And here was wisdom, genius in his clime 

Of song, and high court-ladies with the peers 
Of Parliament, and some had jibes-and jeers ; 

But, over all. Omnipotence sublime ! 

I squeeze the orange, and my hope is there, 

I press the grape, and rare delicious wines 

Of Magra touch my lips. With golden hair 
My muse has come ; with corrugated lines. 

Like crinkling waters, rippled down her back 

Her golden hair, sweet flowerets in her track. 



12 rXTIMATION? OF HEAVKN 

X. 

Yea, I have seen all works beneath the sun ; 

But dare not tell me vanit}-, that all 

Is vanity. A builder build a wall 
I've seen, to shelter little children won 
From murky streets, and then caparison 

Them all with heaven's happ}' coronal ; 

I 've seen a mother with a remnant sha^vl 
Bend home\vard, her last scrap of duty done. 

So, lift the glory of this mundane sphere 

Against the stars. We may not raise the dead ; 

But death has won our heart's unstinted tear; 

And, therefore, shall we cry when she is wed ? 

Nay, nay, take not our hope I Let cloudless skies 

Expand witli golden rainboAv o'er our eves. 

XL 

Our wa\s are crooked .^ Who shall make them straight 
But pardon, we will fling our flowers to thee, 
O Heaven ! We '11 sail our life's tempestuous sea 
With all things fair, and Hope shall be our mate; 
Our crew the best ! To come here was our fate, 
Yet v^^e dare hope our song will rise and be 
A rhyme among the stars, Eternity- 
Will hear, and God And waiting at the Gate ! 

So, let us place a rosy on her grave ; 

So, let us mourn when we are sad and drear, 
And let us sing o'er death our solemn stave, 

And drop above our dead the silent tear ; 
And when we lay her in the quiet tomb, 
O let us fee! she's smiline thro' the sfloom '. 



TXTUrATIOXP OF HEAVFA 13 



XII. 



And never man had greater wisdom ; I 

Was ruler; I cominuned ^vith mine own heart; 
Yet vanity. O preacher 1 let mine art 

Place love's embroiderv o'er the earth and skv, 

A veil of beautv over death, with dve 

Cerulean paint all woe, the flowers that start 
O'er new^-made graves, transpose to heal the smart 

Of dissolution, hallow those that die. 

Since I, O Preacher I now would change all woe 
To beauty, and make death a glorious hope ; 

This life a preparation till we go 

In grand procession thro' the doors that ope 

To Heaven ; for I have come to preach of love. 

And hope, and of that ^^"reath of flowers abo\'e. 

XIII. 

I gave my heart to kno^v all wisdom, folly; 

And yet I found vexation. Why this sadness ? 

Obliteration of all hope ? This madness 
With things that we call beautiful? O jolly 
I land-maidens, pouting girls, drive melancholy 

Over the caverned Styx ; and boys of gladness 

Blow all vour trumps of jov and chase this badness 
From earth and twine the Michaelmas green holly. 

For I have drawn a flaming sword, and hero 

In life's great vanguard, I shall lead to battle 

For peace, and white contrition ; every Nero 

Shall feel my blade ! We 're not "dumb, driven cattle. 

But human gods with spirits born in heaven. 

With strength of one? Yea, as the strength of seven I 



14 I\T1MATI<IN> OK II1:A\KN 



XI\' 



Yes, in much wisdom there is grief, and so 

Does knowledge cause us sorrow. Yet, dear Bard 

Inspired by heaven, I love the daisied yard 
By cabin home, the lovely flowers that blow : 
I love to see the rainstorm's yellow bow 

Across the mountains, an embroidered card, 

A chiseled cameo, a poet stari'ed 
By earth, with banners flaunting high and low. 

For hear mv mandate, doubter, infidel : 

This life is but a premonition grand 
To me, of that high life where faretheewell 

Is never spoken; where a winged band, 
Like great white clouds, throng our Jerusalem, 
White-robed and crowned by starry anadem. 

XV. 

And so avaunt ! all doubt. Serene and fair. 

Come sweet Placidity, and happy girls 

With wreathed horns, and love-entangled curls, 
And flowerv bosoms, apple cheeks as rare 
As Eden peach, with rippling golden hair. 

And winy gladness, tangling gray old earls 

In meshes of delight, revealing pearls 
In pursed mouth, and hearts as light as air. 

For melancholy, trials, troubles, all 

And everything that comes to mar our mirth, 

Get hence and leer behind thy dungeon w^^U ; 
For fairies shall adorn our lovely earth. 

And dispositions sw^eet as pressed wine, 

Shall be to all of earth from heaven divine. 



INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 15 



XVI. 



Go place a rosy on the bride, a ring 

Ol' gold bring unto her. Make merry. Paint 
All splendors of the morning. Make a saint 

Of her. Put on thy wedding suit and bring 

New gladness unto her. The bridal spring 
Put in her heart. Discoloration, taint, 
Disfigurement, and woe, and all complaint. 

Put these aside, and basket roses fting. 

For, hear again : I come to battle worry, 

And disaffection, sour entangled creeds, 
And stop this strain for wealth, this hurry, hurry ; 

This mad contention ; trample on the weeds 
Of old hallucination ; fling about 
The seeds of peace, and crush this age's Doubt ! 

XVII. 

I '11 build me castles by the sanded sea, 

I '11 raise me houses full of all things fair, 
I '11 be a lover of old books so rare 

That earth has not another. I will be 

As free as soft Balalo gales, and tree, 

And shrub, and vine, and vert, and voweled air 

From thrummed lute, shall come from everywhere, 

And please me with their braided rarity. 

For, jolly girls, be jollier still, and swains. 

Pipe out new songs ; and cow-boys fling your hats 

Against the clouds, and send the Bacchus strains 

Down into hearts of gloom ; and pastoral mats. 

And Turkish rugs, and everything of beauty 

Bring to our lives ; for 'tis your right, your duty ! 



16 INTIMATIONS OF HEAVKN 

XMII. 

Place rare bouquets upon y<n\v shelves ; fetch art 

From every clime, and sculpture-work of (Trcecc. 
And all the love of Dante's Beatrice, 

And Ariosto's Princess. Laura. Start 

In all directions ; love to shrine the heart 

With all things beautiful ; and find release 
From foul-faced woe. till tessellated Peace 

Shall smile eternal, tho' death fling his dart. 

And music bring, and viols tuned rare. 

And lutes that Orphean hands shall tc^uch. and lutes 
That blessed Sapphos loved ; and maids with hair 

Of gold, and marble bovs, white little mutes, 
And all things fair, till jolly cheeks of joy 
Arc red with lo^•c, life' s buoyant as a boy. 

XIX. 

Burn Voltaire. Never read a bitter book 
Of theologic doubt ; and never gaze 
On prurient picture. Come from out the haze 

Of turgid isms, and never dare to look 

On horrors. Down, force down the gnome and spook, 
iVnd rush among the fields, the tasseled \vays. 
The greening grots, where beauty 's all ablaze. 

And life outbabbles like a grottoed brook. 

So, turn your shoulder. Drive crowned Satan back. 
And crown alone the god of love and peace ; 

Pile high the flowers along life's winding track. 
And crown with all the loA-eliness of Greece 

"^'our hoine, your fireside, and thy shrine will lie 

Lovelier than emeralds of antiquit\ I 



INTIMATIONS OF UKAVEN 



XX. 



I said in mine own heart : O go to now I 

For mirth shall prove thee, and sweet pleasure. And 

He found it vanity. Take, belov'd, my hand. 
And let me lead thee with thy noble brow 
To quiet pleasures, rosy mirth ; endow 

Thee with sweet love ; the Spanish saraband. 

Or stately minuet, or dance on sand 
Of seashores, be as pleasvires, I avow 1 

Since I would have the golden lyre, the lute 

That beauty touched, the stringed harp ; for mirth 
Is mine. I 'm not a preacher tall and mute. 

But blessed being God has made for earth. 
Its wholesome joys ; and love I beauteous spring, 
Mine own true heart will crown me like a king! 

XXI. 

And laughter's mad? And mirth wdiat doeth it.^ 

My laughter keeps me s%veet ; and mirth ? Ah me 1 
I give thee gloom, and death, the moaning sea; 

But laughter, mirth, I cannot spare a bit ; 

A thousand bumpers I will drink to wit, 

A thousand beakers drain ; and I will be 
By la-ughing waters, full of joys, and see 

An Eden, build me castles where I sit. 

For hear me, pessimist, there 's not a woe. 

An unremerabered grave, but I would clothe 

In loveliness ! Let every floweret blow ; 

Strike down the weeds of doubt, for these I loathe : 

And bury woes in garbs of loveliness, 

Yea, clothe them ever with life's wedding dress. 



18 ■ INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 



XXII. 



I sought to give in}sclt" to wine ; 1 built 

Me houses grand, great works i made, that 1 

Might see what should be good for men. And, ay ! 

He phinted vineyards ; boys in figured kilt, 

And Bacchus lads, wine-bearers ; bossed hilt 
On rare Damascus blade, and elf and fay, 
And music-boys in many a roundelay. 

He might have had, and yet his wine had spilt. 

For all the gold of India piled high, 

Or eagle diamonds flashing like the stars 

In winter skies, had not sufficed. For I 

Know Peace! She's found beside the milking bars, 

And not where temples rear their fronded art. 

Fur these delight the e\e, but not the heart ! 

XXIII. 

He made him orchards, gardens ; luscious fruit 
O'erweighted many a tree, and bellied grapes 
Blushed in purple splendor, greening capes 

In viny textures spread alcove ; and mute 

Waters soft mirrored treetops ; spiral chute, 

And curved strait, and curious-made escapes 
For water, vines in old fantastic shapes, 

Made his new kingdom, yet it did not suit ! 

For nay ! He had no wine of gladness. Eye 
And heart were not united. Method, yea ! 

Method was in his madness. Fie and fie 

For him ! He might have lived to this day 

And he had been dear earth's unhapp} wight, 

A little pleased, but happy: Ah, not quite I 



INTiaiATIONS OF HEAVEN 19 

XXIV. 

And pools of water he did get, that trees 

And vines and herbage he might have, for life 
To him would be a passing dream. The strife 

Of kingdoms vexed him not; no rarities, 

Nor dainties, with their trite disparities 

Or disaflections ; but the pruning knife 
Every false tree should feel, till rare and rife 

Earth glorv he would worship on his knees ! 

But Love he knew thee not ! And wreathed Peace, 
Your A. B. C. he never learned ; for gold 

And glitter, and the glimmering things of Greece 
And Rome, or rare exotics from the wold 

Of England blinded him. Satiety came 

To him. Today we do not know his name ! 

XXV. 

And yet he got him servants; maidens fair 
As angels are he got. Great cattle, too. 
Nibbled his grasses. Yearling calves did loo 

In o'erabundance. Any Croesus there, 

Or far, was never richer. And I swear 
vSolomon in all his glory, yea ! to you 
I say, was never greater. Through and through 

The land he hunted, seeking all things rare. 

Ne'er greater king reigned o'er Jerusalem I 

And yet, O Preacher ! crowned with carcanet 

Of pearls of price, an envied diadem 

Of glory, where 's the beggar you have met 

Whose footstep was not lighter.? whose leal soul 

Had not its own Vcnitian barcarolle.'^ 



20 INTIMATIONS Ol' HKAVEN 

XXVI. 

He gathered silver. goUl ; and of the kings 
Around, all treasures that peculiar were 
To such, he gathered. Nothing did deter 

Him ; for this man would have all earthy things. 

And maids of beauty with their sparkling rings 
Of love; and singers rare, and lutes that stir 
The harmonies within us. Juniper 

In whorls of threes, and knot that flies and sings. 

And yet was woe across his fields; his house 
A palace e'en, was not a Paradise ; 

He envied men ; and e'en the little mouse 

Nibbling forbidden meal. Yet handsome Nice 

With whirling dust, or any city far. 

Had been to him a brighter rising star. 

XX VH. 

So I was great. My God ! And yet he cried : 
Vanity I O build me pleasure-houses rare 
As Aidenn, and a fabric make me fair 

As Barberini Palaces ; and dyed 
, In dyes of gods, new osier baskets ; wide 

As love or heaven raise my castle there, 
And make me 2:>ontificial, and my prayer: 

O this is all for which I sigh, have sighed I 

But, happy builder, architect divine, 

Thy structure lacketh in its chiefest part ! 

It has the arabesque, the cvirved line, 

But O 't is cold. It lacks a human heart 1 

And so I turn me to my cottage home, 

And lo\-e will kine mc like a kine of Rome. 



INTIMATIONS OF HKAVEX 21 



XXVIII. 



His heart rejoiced. But list his varied tale 

Of interchanging joys. His e^-es desired ; 

And craved his heart ; and so to him transpired 

A tale worth telling. But, ah me I a wail, 

A rich man's sigh, comes o'er the intervale 

Where tropic roses bloom. He had aspired 
To all things meet. But now he has retired 

To arbor nook. But care has made him pale. 

And yet how great he was 1 All maids of song. 
And instruments attuned rare, and bards 

Of genius, aye! a multitude, a throng 

Of rosy-footed joys, and flowers from yards 

Of Eden flocked round ; and yet he said : 

All 's vanitv ! Better far that I were dead. 

XXIX. 

And then I looked on all the works my hands 

Had wrought, and all my labors. But, ah me. 
Ah me ! He found no pleasure. O'er the sea 

A ragged sailor starteth home. The bands 

Of love, a mother's ; and the golden strands 

Of love, a sweetheart's, draw him, make him free 
Of spirit, and he smiles. His bended knee 

Is holy as he strikes the shining sands. 

And he was poor, but richer than a king. 

And he was rich, but poor as poor could be,' 

For one alone the whole year long was spring, 
For one the days went tossing like the sea 

On rocky shores ; since one had bargained for 

His peace, the other's came by natural law. 



22 INTl.'MATIUXS ol- HKAVKN 

XXX. 

AikI niiulnc.ss. \\i.s(luni, roll\'. These to him 
Were potent. i>ut O such (Hscouiagement 
In all his lite. Had he a man's intent 

Who loveth lo^'e. and God. and genii dim 

Are never floating o'er him l>lack and grim 

In mitlnight's solemn hour, he had nut bent 
With gilded \\()e. And, ah ! he had not lent 

His goodliest days to l"oll\'s nacent whim. 

And \ct he saw his life mistake ; so. ay I 

iSIore bitter gicw his Inttcrness ; no thing 

As wholly new as life could mone\' bu\' ; 

All things had been : in fall and purple spiing 

He found no newness. Thousand years before 

.Vs kingU" kings had done his doings o'er. 

XXXI. 

His dust may be m\ valid self. But I 

Am speaking from a heart that loveth gold 
That it may clothe the poor, not build me old 

High turret castles, that the passer-by 

Will halt and worship, as beneath the sky 

It glimmers to the morning. O'er the wold 
I 've seen me catafalques, and bells have tolled 

For wdiat.? .Vlas I for rich man that did die. 

Oh give me bags of gold, the wealth of Ind ; 

But give me sweet Valhalla maidens, yea I 
To scatter my great wealth. For I had sinned 

Against myself, had beggars by the way 
Seen useless millions in my strained purse,— 
But don't misunderstand me in m\- verse. 



IKTIMATIUNS OF HEAVEN 23 



XXXII. 



O great ecclesiarch, I envy thee 

Thy wisdom ! Folly had a reason, nay ! 
x^nd darkness ; a great governor or Bey 

In Turkish lands ; the earth ; and roaring sea 

In its eternal restlessness ; the bee 

On wayside flowers ; and in the shining way 
Of love, bride-garlands. Preacher, yea and yea. 

Thou sawest all, but peace flew far away. 

With dirty urchins, one, and two, and four. 

I 've seen a beggar kiiig upon this throne 
Of love and home, suggestions of that shore 

Where life 's eternal, not a tare is sown I 
So who will tell me wealth means happiness? 
That it will clothe us like a papist's dress? 

XXXIII. 

And so the earth-fool is as I ? We die 

The death of life ; but I am wiser far ; 

O'er him I am as some resplendent star ; 
Some shining glory ; gemmed tiaras lie 
Close at my feet ; the pageants passing by 

Are unto me ; that gaudy chariot car 

With trumpets blown and songs, sweeps down afar, 
For I am king, and likened to Most High ! 

But no procession passeth for the fool ; 

x\nd yet the pageant's soon forgot, the herse 
With tasseled horses ; in the wayside pool 

Throw veiny pebble ; such the rich man's verse ! 
The rich and poor have each the same earth breath. 
But who shall draw the line between their death? 



24 fXTlMATlONS OF HEAVKN 

XXXIV. 

Tlie high and low are soon forgot, unless 

A touch of heaven does link us unto Ilim ! 
For I, and hear me, tho' the thing be dim, 

Dare sav in all this age's worldliiiess, 

There is a God ! So don thy spotless dress, 

And dare be brave where armed Doubt is grim. 
And isms ; for Heaven is no new pf>et's whim. 

But fact I So, bow the knee, and dare confess. 

For look ye in the lives of infidels, 

And look' ye in the lives of those that doubt ; 
The first is but a life of sad farewells, 

The second, very lamps of life are out ; 
But he who hopes beyond the mouldered tomb, 
Sees Him of Olivet across the gloom I 

XXXV. 

And so he hated life ; for vanities 

Upstarted here and there, and grevious were 
His works to him, and like a whipped cur 

He skulked in thought. The salt unresting seas 

Were not more restless. Wine-cups to the lees 
His lips had quaffed. Valkyrian, e'en her 
Of Odin, spear-mark made, and like a bur 

It harrassed him and took away his ease. 

But blame him not, for life had taught him ; say, 
Was ever wiser .^ Life to him had been 

A learned lesson. Had he gone astray 

In doubt, he had not touched the carved kin 

To holy song; but God had made him rich 

In goods, though Time hath left no marble niche '. 



INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 25 

XXXVI. 

He knew not if a wise man or a fool 

Would reign o'er all his great estates ; and so 

He moaned. Where lilies turned their whited blow 

To God, he stood with folded arms. The cool 

North breezes touched his cheek. Sevastopol 
Had less contention. In a dream of woe 
He stood, but every grass-blade seemed his foe ; 

His endless sea had dwindled to a pool. 

He caused his heart despair. His labor vain 

It seemed, and all his goodly acres round 
Seemed folly, since he soon must cross the main,. 

Be buried in the churchyard's sodden ground ; 
1 venture tears outglistened in his eye, 
With wealth so much, at thought he soon must die. 

XXXVII. 

His days were sorrow, and his travail grief. 

His heart no rest. And yet 'twas best to eat 
And drink, be merry. These to him were sweet 

Savor to his sad plight. But bordered leaf. 

And broken stone are trite. Yet, Time, the thief. 
Has stolen name and fame. The winds repeat 
The funeral dirge. In spring or summer's heat. 

We guess his early history, for 'tis brief. 

A wise man wrote Ecclesiastes. Stave 

Of requiem had never been so sad ; 
Ah ! we hunt vainly for the Preacher's grave ; 

For e'en his gilded name and all he had. 
Are perished ! Yet how little do we seem 
Before the greatness of this man ! I dream ! 



26 INTI.MAJIONS »)|- IIKAVKN 



XXXVIII. 



Yea, dream and dream and dream. But, ah to me 

Cometh the thought : All things have seasons. There's 
A time to live, to die. The ripened pears 

Are mellowed to their fall. Eternity 

Is wide as mercy. Dread adversity, 

And death have seasons. Climb life's weary stairs, 
And >at the top is death. A time for cares. 

And love and wine and glories unto thee. 

A time to kill, a time to heal, to weep 

O'er death's intrusion ; time to laugh and mourn, 
For life hath levels, and her roads are steep. 

The heart will weary, every soul be torn '. 
But hope is radiant, above all woe 
It spanneth ever like an endless bow. 

XXXIX. 

A time to get, a time to lose, to weep ; 

And yet is life worth living. Pretty flowers 
Are strewn upon the grave of babes, and bowers 

Of fragrance rare are made for them. Why keep 

.Such sacred trait ? Because you know the sleep 

That binds their loveliness, will break in hours 
Not far to be, tho' now the black cloud lowers, 

And death o'ertakes thy baby ere it creep<^ 

And yet a time to love, and now if ever ; 

For never is a holy mother's heart 
So sorely touched as when death does dissever 

Her from her newborn babe. The tear will start, 
E'en when the flowers have faded on its grave ; 
But God that took him, and 'twas God that gave. 



INTIMATIONS? OF HEAVEN 37 



XL. 



A time lor war, a time for peace. But hear: 
O love thy neighbor as thyself. Let strife, 
And battled field go by the wall. The knife 

Of internecine bitterness, the spear 

Of tasseled knights be buried. Let the ear 
Hear village hautboy, and the air be rife 
With gladsome music. Lead the flowery wife 

To scenes of loveliness, and glad the year. 

Put flowered housings on thy steed, and ride 

To tune of drum and fife ; but let thy battle 

Be for sweet peace. The tally-ho with bride 

Head the procession. Let no musket rattle 

On hostile field, and crown with olive leaf 

Tlic whole broad land, and place a rose on grief. 

XLL 

Hear : Everything is beautiful in its 

Own season. Firstlings of the flock, the herd 
In meditative days. Let lucent word 

Go forth for hope. For time so softly flits 

Across our lives in its new parceled bits, 
It seems the flitting of a robin-bird, 
A zephyr that a faded leaf has stirred 

In winter nooks. But go where beauty sits. 

For beauty is the queen of every land ; 

Love all things fair ; love not the sombre weeds 
Of mourning. Wipe the tear, and with the hiand 

Of kindliness, and to the tune of reeds, 
Lead in all loveliness, and all things fair, 
And \eil with flowerets every liome's despair. 



28 INTniATIONS OF HEAVEN 

XLII. 

I saw tlie place of judgment. Ah ! 't is well ; 
The good man's judged already. Only fear 
Is to the wicked. Be ye of good cheer, 

And smooth the wrinkles from thy face. I tell 

Thee He is coming! Let no infidel 

Dethrone thy hope ; for even he on mere 
Of death, will look to God with falling tear, 

And Jesus' name be in his last farewell. 

Judge men by deeds, and not by bandied word ; 

Let sense prevail, and he that takes thy hope, 
Forget his name. Go seek the singing bird 

In pastures new ; climb up the flowery slojie 
That leads to heaven, and dare be true and brave, 
E'en at the open mouth of thy child's grave. 

XLIIL 

The beast and I the same earth breath .^ And yet 
I dare be more, dare imitate the One 
Who made the stars, the slave, the Scythian Hun 

Who conquered old Pannonia ; who set 

The rainbow in the sky ; who '11 not forget 

The sparrow in its fall ; who sent his Son 
To die for us. Dare do as He hath done, 

And rise o'er beasts like towering minaret. 

For e'en tho' death should be the end, 'tis better 
To rise with glory like a star, and shine 

With splendor. Dare to break the rusting fetter 
That binds our lives to doubt. Oh be divine. 

And when the last great hour shall come to thee, 

Thy earth-reward be hope, nut vanity ! 



INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN . 29 



XLIV. 



Yea, all will turn to dust. But of the pure 

Are lilies made. But dust to dust ! Be wise 
As serpents ; 't is the spirit on emprise 

Of valor, rising like an incense sure 

Of God ! White Galatea on earthy tour 

Thro' moulder's mind, before a thousand eyes, 
Was lifeless in her clay. Snap not the ties 

That bind. Be wary of the Fauns that lure. 

Fling hope and love to every home ; let joy 

Dance nimbly, timbrel sound, and fiddle play, 

And morris-dances come, and maiden coy. 

And crimson sky, join in with roundelay, 

Till every heart is- full of gladness, hours 

Go by like fairy's dream among the bowers. 

XLV. 

Yea, better is an handful with a heart 

Of quietness, than both hands full, with woe. 
And discontent ; so make amends with foe 

And enemy, unselfish be in art 

That comes of wealth. Give each poor beggar part. 
And sleep shall come to thee ; since as ye sow, 
So shall ye reap ; and such a sleep, I know, 

Will come to thee as babe's in crowded mart. 

For peace and sleep and happiness are more 

Than gold, than hoarded wealth ; for riches oft 
Annov the night. Stand on the rocky shore 

Of ocean, beacon banner hold aloft 
To threated ship, and such a peace to thee 
As sfold has not this side eternity. 



30 INTIAIATIOXS OK IIKAVKN 

« 

XLVI. 

Go 'mong thine orange groves, thy vineyards rare ; 

Pick purple clusters, fling them to the hoy 

With knee-frayed pants ; and set life's rosy joy 
A-dancing. Pluck the mellow, yellow pear 
For gift to rosy maid with golden hair 

In w^avv ripples ; to Jack Tar : Aho\- ! 

Come feast. Jack Tar I Forget the old bell-buoy, 
And breakers, and our pristine homage share. 

For giving makes a man. And he is king 

Who 's king of self. This life is but a span : 

If some to spare, outdo the blooming spring 

In glad abundance. Laurel old King Pan, 

And make him play a rural ditty sweet 

As love, and all the zeph3rs will repeat. 

XLVII. 

Put spangles in her hair; twine chains of gold 
Around her neck, embroider every doubt 
With starry loveliness ; throw each hand out 

With gladsome fullness ; dance across the wold 

Among the daisies ; let all stories told 

By sweet new dabsters all along life's route. 
Be told again ; and kiss away the pout 

Of beauty, and joys will be manifold. 

I 'm here to laugh and not to cry. The tear, 

Ah me ! let teardrops come from happiness ; 

Have hope. Don't make this life a funeral bier, 
But clothe thyself with joy and loveliness ; 

And fill the whole great world with gladsome song, 

And shower with floAAcrs the world's great surging throng. 



INTIMATIONf> OF HEAVEN 31 



XL VIII. 



I 'm sick of" sadness. Tell mc of delights 

In shady nooks, and take me bosky ways 
Of dewy freshness, where the lightsome fays 

Dance on the green in cloudless starry nights, 

With n)erry lads and lassies, pursy wights 

In life's gray prime, where song and voweled lays 
Sweeten and harmonize the soul ; for days 

Are flitting ftist. So, come ! Enjoy the sights. 

Make gardens ; bury up the earth in flowers 

Of beauty, garlands make as nattily 
Arranged as bridv dreams ; and laurel hours, 

And minutes, seconds, and as prettily 
As ever flowery bride ; for hear me now, 
I 'd place a crown on every being's brow. 

XLIX. 

For once you lose desire ; ah me, ah me ! 

The grasshopper shall be a burden, things 
That once were thy delight, will take the wings 

Of morning ; and thy friends will be to thee 

As naught ; for now thou thinkest of the Sea 

'Twixt Him and thee ; and other summers, springs, 
Are nothing now ! Now nothing pleasure brings. 

But, sans desire, from earth you 'd gladly flee. 

For now^ like throneless patriarch of Rome, • 
Your mind is busy with the future state. 

Because thou goest soon to thy long Home, 

And dear old memories cannot make you wait ; 

For earth is fading like a bitter dream, 

But e'en thro' death thou seest the great throne gleam ! 



32 IXTDIATION? OF HKAVEN 

L. 

The son of David, he hath said these things 
Of beauty, wisdom, to another time, 
Now faded out like some old poet's rhyme 

That echoed with a great heart's questionings 

Of busier life and death, when other springs 
And winters hoar, in far and elder clime, 
Were pregnant with the great God music-chime 

That only the divinest poet sings. 

And yet today a new world scans the pages 
Of gray old life, to gather from their lore 

And spoils of years, the mystery of the ages 
That only on that far unknowable Shore 

Is sure revealed. And yet we may not grope, 

For, at the end of every life is Hope ! 

LI. 

To some this life is full of vanities ; 

To others rainbows span from shore to shore ; 

And one may mourn his love, his lost Lenore ; 
And one may fill his life with charities ; 
And two may wed and find Idalian Dees ; 

And one may walk alone and bravely soar 

Across the mountains ; others may adore 
The Being smiling over sapphire seas. 

But, high or low, no theologic doubt. 

When grimy death draws near, can take our hope ;- 
For, hear : 'Tis hard to put our God-lamp out, 

E'en though in bitter darkness we may grope ; 
Since over all our life's great weal and woe 
Ever, forever spanneth heaven's bright bow ! 



INTIMATIONS OF HEAVKN 33 



LII. 



And so the Preachei' may-not have a grave, 

No mausoleum of Carrara stone ; 

And yet the ages heard his great voice tone, 
Tho' poet sing his sad funereal stave 
As over one who lived. So, do not rave ; 

For though he sleepeth in white death alone. 

Nor any note of lyre or voiced phone. 
Still let the pleasant grasses o'er him wave. 

His golden words are ours. But vanity 

Shall fade away like some distorted dream 

Of Hades, and across his widening sea 

We still shall sail to him, the bright white gleam 

Upon our sails, reflect the loveliness 

Of his great life that came from God to bless. 

LHI. 

One generation passes ; graves are wide 

And yawning. Yet, and yet the bridegroom comes 

Arrayed with beauty. Birds still peck the crumbs, 
And like a rainbow cometh life's new bride, 
And with a rosy in the eventide 

A little ditty or a carol hums. 

And Cupid does his hymeneal sums, 
And smiles between them when the knot is tied. 

vSo, generations go, but others come ; 

And these will pass like panoramic dream ; 
And yet the earth remains. The busy hum 

Of life is in the valley. Yet the stream 
Of death is ever winding to the grave ; 
But even there, let's sing our life's best stave! 



34 INTOIATIONP OK HKAVKX 

LIV. 

For singing makes the glory of the sky 

Even more glorious, gives a rare new song 
To busy earth, and glads the passing throng 

With reminiscent ecstasy ; for I 

Would add a tint, a hue, a trancing dye 

To every field, and touch the golden gong 
To lyric melody, the fiddle plong 

And pling, as life's procession passeth by. 

So, come fair nymphs, and maids of Plato love. 
And lads and lassies full of music rare ; 

Descend ye glowing Nine, while stars above 
Twinkle in beauty, and the cooling air 

From southern climes, soft woos our willing cheek 

Till we are pure as stone-entranced Greek. 

LV. 

The sun will rise, and yet he will go down 
And leave a glory on the western hills, 
A pure white loveliness upon the rills. 

And In a farewell twilight to the town, 

vSlow fade in beauty. Not a passing frown. 

But wreathed in smiles; for over woes and ills 
I 'd spread a texture lovely, wove in mills 

Of gods, and coronaled by flowery crown. 

For I would add a color to the bow- 
That spans the storm, a hue to lilies white 

In odorous valleys ; and with Cupid go 

To music-lands, and 'neath the German night, 

Lit up by stars, cry out: "Another song! 

Fill up the glad red beaker to the throng !" 



INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 35 

LVI. 

The wind may sail away to southern vales 

Of sweet deliciousness, and not return ; 

But I will place a rosy on her urn, 
And let a teardrop fall where Zephyr wails 
Among her funeral lilies, say: ''Sweet gales, 

En waft my love to her, and with the hern 

From Scottish Dees, and all her beauty turn 
Angelic, breathe upon my placid sails." 

For winds may go, and death may come, but I 

Shall grasp the promise of the clouds; the tear, 

Ah me, that comes unbidden, and the sigh 

Shall pass away ; for feint and far, but clear. 

There shines a halo with a hope to me 

That spans across the great Eternity ! 

LVII. 

The streams may surge and join the great blue sea ; 

My ships with bellied sails may blow away ; 

My soaring lark may vanish with his lay, 
And yet my heart-song still remains to me ; 
For though the earth pass on, eternity 

Remains ; and though I own the earth today, 

'Tis nothing if the bright and starry Way 
Is hid, I cannot say : "I go to Thee !" 

For though I paint me splendors in my halls, 
And build me arches groined to the clouds. 

In marble basins have me waterfalls, 

I cannot hide from thee the clinging shrouds, 

But walk a living Superstition vast, 

Until the disembodied soul has passed I 



INTI.AIATI0N5 OF HEAVEX 



LVIII. 



No man may utter all the thoughts that lie 

Hidden within his being ; and the ear 

Is still unsatisfied ; and year on year 
Goes unrewarded till his heart and eye 
Give up the quest, and earth and moonless sky 

Pass onward unrecorded ; yet as clear 

As clarion morn or lusty chanticleer, 
The Morn of morns shines out to you and I. 

But, will we learn ? Ah me ! the golden god 
We build, and shining monuments upraise 

Against the stars ; the pontificial rod 

We kiss, and strut a king of passing days ; 

And yet a tinsel potentate, ah me I 

Of earth, but not the great Eternity. 

LIX. 

My song is but a repetition ; I 

May strike the lyre, the voweled notes are dim 

In unremembered ages; raise to Him 
A paion of triumphal praise ; the sky 
In vaulted glory in that other by 

And by re-echoed it ; a spectre grim 

Arises from the past with every whim 
And trick, that last resolve to you and I. 

And yet is repetition sweet to me ; 

For thus I win my rosy back again, 
My ox-eye daisy dow^n across the lea ; 

And spring will come and summer too, and when 
Old Winter comes to every soft retreat, 
I know that spring her beauties will repeat. 



INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 37 



LX. 



But, is it new ? A Whitman grand and gray, 

The good gray bard of Camden-side, essayed 
A metre new in language great arrayed ; 

And so the world has lost a Poet's lay 

That might have echoed to the farthest day ; 

For great Miltonic thoughts were there displayed, 
With Emersonian grandeur. Muses prayed : 

''O take us through the old accustomed way!" 

But nay and nay, with language of a god, 

A meaning vast as Avon's tragic bard, ^^ 

The sceptre in his hand, Apollo's rod. 

The good gray poet is uncrov/ned, unstarred ! 

And yet his numbers were a battle-ode ; — 

He was too vast for such an earth abode ! 

LXI. 

There 's no I'emembrance ! In the elder times 

Now unremembered, did the great God reign 
In glory ? was there such a Cuba ? Spain ? 

A British empire ? undiscovered climes ? 

The master verse ? the bardling's halting rhymes ? 
Did hostile falchions glitter on the plain? 
Were ever such disasters as the Maine ? — 

Upon our newest fad the ivy climbs ! 

And yet I would remember other days ; 

The old associations, bygone hours ; 
The old familiar faces, and the ways 

Our fathers knew ; go backward to the bowers 
Where dewy love first told his new old tale. 
And birds sang love to every intervale. 



38 INTIMATIONS OK IIKAVKN 

LXll. 

Yea, over Israel he was a king 1 

But who can point his place of sepulchre .' 

Ah! was it Solomon? I dare demur ; 
KoheletJi ! rise and end this questioning; 
But through the winter and the passing spring 

The silence is unbroken. Juniper, 

Anemone, or e'en the bitter myrrh. 
May know his grave, or birds that fly and sing '. 

"Yea, I was king o'er Israel !" O son 

Of David? — But the voice is hushed for aye ; 

And yet, Koheleth^ were you Solomon? 
The god of wisdom in that elder day ? 

But Grotius denies it ; wherefore we 

To bandv or impeach his sovereignty? 

LXIII. 

And though he sought all wisdom in the earth, 
And in the great dividing sea, in lands 
Beyond the sea, and where the golden sands 

Exposed their granulations, where the birth 

Of kings took place, and men of drink and mirth 
Made merry nights, and gra}- old Morris bands 
Danced light fandangos on the babbling strands. 

He moaned his fate ; for in his life was dearth. 

And yet the great One reigning far, unseen. 
The Ruler of the earth, he ever held 

In highest estimation, more than queen 

Or reigning king ; and from the lore of eld 

Brought magic splendors to enhance this One, 

The Father who would give his only son. 



INTIMATIONS OF HEAVKN 39 



LXIV. 



Yet, Septuagint ! his name we dare dispute 

With lore of ages. Was he Persian? Where, 
Where did he reign? And was he David's heir 

Apparent to the throne ? All tongues are mute ; 

No language such strange figures can compute ; 
And so the Alaccabees ma}' sway ; for there 
By Hartmann he is placed ; and yet I dare 

Name him the man the very heavens can suit. 

For out of all his toil and moil and woe, 

He rises like a star, and points on high. 

The realm of peace, where Hope's o'erarching bow 
Resplendent shines across the great wide sky. 

And tells us if we penetrate the night. 

Behind it all the great sun shineth bright ! 

LXV. 

Accept the crooked things of life, and be 

A happy ministrant to every ail ; 

Go pick the flowers beside the babbling vale ; 
Send out your ships upon the restless sea ; 
Plant shrub and vine and flower and cedar ti-ee 

On all thv slopes, and in the intervale 

Place mirrored lake, and on it silver sail, 
And romp with nature in her rarity ! 

For purity and natui^e's rare delights 

Oft come of suffering ; so weal and woe. 

And bitter days, make pictures in the nights 

With Titian moonbeams, and the gamboling doe 

And swift gazelle ; for hearts that are not tried 

A mam" a lovelv blessine is denied. 



-10 INTLMATIONS OK IlEAVEK 



LXVI. 



Let knowledge, love and wisdom c(jme to thee ; 

Let fine appreciation grace thy mind ; 

Find beauty in the meadow, and the wind 
That plays a ditty in old nooks; agree 
With nature ; hold thy natal liberty 

For aye, and love the earth and be resigned 

To lif/e, to all ; and once you are refined 
As gold, vour life will babble like a Dee. 

For songs within the heart can never die ; 

And e'en when death has come to thee and thine, 
The old songs will re-echo like a Wye 

On English meads, and coarser ones refine; 
The Cotter's Night in Burns's canty rh3'mes. 
Still echoes with the ingle's merry chimes. 

Lxvn. 

Wisdom and grief go hand in hand. We look 

On frescoed walls where art has reigned. We see 

The palace ships in freighted majesty ; 
We stand in wonder by some pearly brook ; 
We read old nature like an open book ; 

In awe we stand beside the great wide sea ; 

A crannied flower has piqued us ; far and free 
The winds have come from some deserted nook. 

A blade of grass has dashed our wisdom down ; 

A twittering bird has held our learning up ; 
We cannot cross our rural, native town. 

But mysteries shine within the daisy's cup ; 
So, wisdom gives a certain kind of grief ; 
I am dumfounded at a mouldered leaf ! 



INTlMATIONJi i}¥ HKAYEN -41 



LXVIII. 



But I will pro\e with mirth this world of ours, 

With shining star and horned moon ; with bird 
And flower, the lambkins and the pasture herd 

Feeding upon the slopes. So, Bacchus, towers 

Of grapes to thee ; come, Ida, to our bowers. 

And we ^will sing the wine-song Bacchus stirred 
To revehy, the juicy-tipped word, 

With purple grapes distilling winy showers. 

Since mirth is mine ; I '11 be a happy wight, 

Tho' tasseled horses draw my ladj's hearse ; 

For even then the stars will splash the night, 

Since death has won an angel. Svi'eet and terse : 

"And death has ta'en her to the highest star! 

But death has ta'en her where the angels are !" 

LXIX. 

And laughter, what of it? 'T is savor rare 

Of aching gout ; it is a poppy pill 

To drowse you sweetlv in a Lethe rill ; 
It drives the man of saddle-bags. So fair. 
So pouting sweet and softly debonair 

It makes the rosy maid ; you pavise to fdl 

Your life's best being, feast upon her still. 
Yea, feast upon her face, her sparkling hair. 

So, court the god of laughter ; woo the maid 

Who smiles the whole vear round ; be good to her ; 

For she 's a sylph in ecstas}' arrayed ; 

The lovely nightingale may sing and whir : 

The lark of morn may soar afar; but she.' 

She 's Qiieen of everlasting Jollit\- 1 



42 rNTIMATlONS OK HKAVKN 



LXX. 



And did I sav I 'd give myself to wine? 

And say I 'd pull the purple clusters down 

From mossv nook ? That I would hide my frown 

In flushes of the grape? That wine 's divine I 

That it can beautify a friend of mine. 

And make him finer than he is ? Renown, 
Imagined kingdoms it can make ; can drown 

The hitter soul, send boating on the Tyne. 

So, pull the purple clusters ! Drink not deep, 
But just enough, my pard, to sweeten thee ; 

And just enough, perchance, to make thee leap 

With joy. But, nay ! The breakers of the sea 

Are in the red wine cup I So, have a care. 

The red, red wine may turn thee to despair I 

LXXI. 

I builded houses ; I 'd the wherewithal 

To make a name on earth, a money -king; 

A prince of princedoms ; gods should touch the string 

On harp of gold ; and arched room and hall 

Should echo music, till a drowsing thrall 

With murmured meanings, birds with sparkling wing 
In slumberous tune, should soft and drowsily cling 

To pictured nook, to pictures on the wall. 

But, ah ! is tinsel beauty such to him ? 

Can money buy the dearest peace he craves? 
I see a spectre disembodied, dim ! 

I see a sexton ! Is he digging graves ? 
Alas, alas, can wine and money buy 
God's kingdom ? No ! For I am ever 1 1 



IXTIMATIONS OF HKAVEN 43 



LXXII. 



O make ye orchards ; raise the lucious fruit ; 
Put borders on thy gardens ; train the vine 
On mossy arbor ; make old earth divine ; 

Place marble Cupids by a vs^inding chute 

Lined vv^ith flowers, and statues sculptured mute 
As nevs^ first love, uprear in tasty line. 
So poet eye, enraptured by the Nine, 

May find it Eden, rare and lush and cute. 

And yet is happiness within the heart ; 

You cannot win the bulbul's gladsome song 
In barred cage ; you bury dross in art 

Of Raphaels, yet this you is you ! The throng 
Can read your heart in every line I Bright gold 
Can never cover sores or wrinkles old I 

LXXIII. 

With artificial pools, the haunts of fish 

Of varied hue, yovi may enhance your place 
Of earthly habitation ; yet your face, 

The index of your mind, will show^ the wish 

Unfound ; thy goodly friends will come ; — but, psh ! 
The vintner, where his vinelets interlace 
In lowly cottage, goes a better pace. 

And has contentment in his savory dish. 

So, spread vour acres ; build your turrets high ; 

Make deer-parks ; have a dainty hound or so ; 
Make Michael splendors that shall glad the eye ; 

But still remember woe to you is woe. 
That though the purple cover with its art, 
It cannot hide the moanings of the heart ! 



44 INI niAl IONS OK IlKAVKN 

LXXI\'. 

Your servants ma\ aliouiul : your herds may line 
The everhistin^^ hills ; your heart may swell 
With natal pride, and life's new Christmas bell 

May ring out gladsomeh, and to the cyne 

May come the love of flowers ; the curved sign 
On marble bust of thee, (like rose in dell,) 
May add a sweetness, though a farethecwell 

Be in the odor, end in spilled wine I 

But, hoarded Wealth, has Peace enshrined thy form 
In happy wreathlets? Has thine ardent friend 

Arrayed thee like the bow across the storm 

In Springtime? Do the colors softly blend 

In unadorned art? O let me lead 

To thatched ccHtagc bordering on the mead 1 

LXXV. 

And vou mav gather silver, yellow gold 

From hidden mines ; the stringed harps may play 
Old classic poems ; night may shine like day 

In Oriental pallor ; citterns old 

In luiforgotten songs, in tune unfold 

Their music, flower-boys wreathed, join the lay. 
Till many-voiced maids, with cutest sway, 

Come hying from the wood or English wold. 

But, trained songsters, can you pipe a song 

To hearts of gloom? Can great magician's spell 
Of rapt enchantment veil a single wrong 

With fine delusion ? Come across the dell : 
Her dress is scant ; but look down in her heart ; 
Her song is sweet, but innocent of art '. 



INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 45 



LXXVI. 



You may be great to outvvarcl eye ; the brook 

May babble in your fields ; the sparkling trout 
May shimmer in your pools ; the sloping route, 

The winding path may lead to osier nook 

O'er tilled field. And yet I read your book 

Of bordered gold ; but you have blotted out 
■ Reality ! Cute gold-gods mime and pout ; 

Yet you are you ; you cannot hide that look ! 

So, women, wine and tuned lute can not 

Disguise your self ; for when my lady fades, 

And wine-cups cloy, and softest lute has caught 
Your melancholy, little shining blades 

Of retribution pierce your callous heart ; 

For you are you yet, under all your art ! 

LXXVII. 

Your heart may dandle every joy. But, come 
With me, a little runlet crosses here ; 
And there, a natural lake is sparkling clear ; 

Beside the lilacs, where the bees may hum, 

A rustic grotto smiles ; with savory gum 

Spruces are standing ; lusty chanticleer 
Pipes out his clarion to the budding year. 

With bordering vine and tree and rustic plum. 

And in the midst a cottage. You and I 

Would give our wealth for such a simple home 

Were peace included. But, ah me ! we sigh 

Because we live in France instead of Rome; 

Because our money will not buy us peace ; — 

But moss is on the monuments of Greece ! 



46 INTIMATIONS OP HEAVEN 

LXXVIII. 

But, is there profit in the chase for gold? 

The race is to the swift. A hundred years 
Will raze us to the dust. Alas ! our tears 

Of life ! what mean they? With our arms we fold 

A lovely child. A few short years and mould 
Is on her tomb. From every shadow peers 
A writhing face, and many a teardrop blears 

The page of life ; and more when hearts are sold ! 

So, fling your wealth in golden showers; lead love 
And joy and peace across your threshold ; take 

A sip of nectar ; stars will shine above ; 

Throw out your ducats for the children's sake ; 

Divide your gold with love ; for it will be 

A bridge of flowers to Eternity ! 

LXXIX. 

So I was great. Ah ! great in what ? In lands ? 

In cattle? sheep? I see a mother, she 

To me is great in ideality I 
He tunes his instruments ; and noisy bands, 
With fifers, stamping feet and clapping hands. 

Are honoring his great glory. But to me 

A higher glory is that sovereignty 
That crowns a mother in her life's new sands ! 

But greatness is a thing of taste, a whim 

That Fashion names. For one is crowned by Love, 
And one by Gold, and one by only Him 

Who moves the clouds. I see a star above ; 
And is it some old dear departed guest 
Who dying said : "Thy will be done, thou blest! " 



INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 47 



LXXX. 



And he indulged in every joy ; in art 

With curved line ; in architecture grand 
As time had seen ; in kine and fertile land ; 

In prancing stallions. Yet how fared his heart? 

His curios from every foreign mart ; 

His porcelains from distant shores, from strand 
Unknown, were beautifvil ; but hand in hand 

Two lads are happier with a broken cart ! 

And yet was God an essence pure and fine 

Amid his lavishments ; and tho' he cried : 
"Vanity ! " he felt the great One was divine, 
And Him of Nazareth they crucified ; 
And yet his pleasure-houses grew apace. 
And were the rare embodiments of grace. 

LXXXI. 

One sings his Annie Laurie, and is king ; 

One pipes a ditty on an oaten reed 

Beneath the stars ; another inounts his steed 
And rushes on to fame. I cannot sing. 
And yet I'm happy with a fiddler's string 

And bow. Some pluck the daisies in the mead ; 

Some sit beneath the slanting sun and read 
The glories of the rainbow in the spring. 

For one hath pleasure in an ambling pad ; 

And one takes pleasure in a boat at sea ; 
Another still is happier when he's sad, 

And melancholy days are on the lea ; 
For Autumn odors are like scented breath 
To him. He loveth to commune with Death! 



48 INTIMATIONS OF IIKAVEN 

LXXXII. 

So, who shall say that I cannot be I ? 

And who shall say that you shall not be you ? 

One loves the rose ; but I the mournful yew ; 
Some sail with gas to find an arctic sky ; 
And one is ruined by a sparkling eye ; 

One loves the rose that's beaded in the dew ; 

Another loves it faded ! Skies are blue ; 
And yet our puzzled life is "Why?" and ''Why?" 

We never reach the goal we set. We soar 

Above the clouds. 'Twas but a freak of will ; 

We are bra^-e Nelsons when the breakers roar 
Against the adamantine rock. The rill 

Has made a river going to the sea ; 

But you are you, and we are simpl}' we ! 

LXXXIII. 

But I will build a bridge of flowers to God ; 

For earth shall pass away, I pay the toll 

To death, and die. But shall I lose my soul 
For fleeting earth ? I love the goldenrod ; 
I love the flower that decks the mouldering sod ; 

I love to see Ambition reach his goal ; 

I'm sad when Sidney Laniers hearses roll. 
And all my being crieth : "Maud, Maud, Maud ! " 
So, here the gist: "O build for heaven and earth; 

O build thee mansions for the glowing skies 
Of Immortality ; make second birth 

As pure as vestal love ; sith he who dies 
A child of earth and heaven -withal, may be 
A kin"- of kingdoms In Eternity !" 



INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 49 



LXXXIV. 



So, win this world, and dai-e be true and brave. 
Even when martial music rends the air. 
And people with a wild theatric stare 

Lose sanity. Earth is but a monstrous Grave ! 

Ah me ! our proudest flag may float and wave ; 

But Bonapartes are thrown. We climb our stair 
With tinkling steps. And yet how oft Despair 

Is at the goal, and sings our funeral stave ! 

And yet I'd grasp the very stars ; for life 

Is larger to the curbless soul. He serves 

Who only stands and waits ! But, in the strife 
I'd mingle. Genius is a mass of nerves 

In Poes ! O me ! to be without desire ; — 

May Orpheanr hands retouch the broken lyre ! 

LXXXV. 

His hand has lost its cunning. Dumb and dead 

The great harp lies. No more the master touch 
Shall call the melody ; yet his art was such 

The heavenly harmonies he seemed to wed 

In such a married) cadence Orpheus shed 

A glory on his head. He wooed much 

In 3-outh and prime. But now his nerveless touch 

Is vain ; for all his art had vanished ! 

And 3'et he sang his swan-song : "O'er the Bar ! " 
When Death was knocking at his being's door ; 

He seemed to rise in glory like a star ; 

The Muses took his pen. "Nay, nevermore ! " 

And England's magic singer passed awa}^ ; 

His ashes honor England's great Abbaye ! 



50 INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 

LXXXVI. 

But why 2t)alaver? Who can make a grain 

Of mustard? Yet we Ingersolls have dared 
To weigh the Universe ! I had despaired 

Myself these years, had not a certain strain 

Of finite reason, told me o'er the main 

A Paradise is waiting ! I'd not cared 

To live this life of earth had my mind shared 

A Voltaire's doubt ! For with it life is vain. 

But jDCople grasp at earth. Long in the night 

The candle burns, and man goes speeding on 

To what? An earthly phantom of delight 

That fadeth with the purple of the dawn ; 

At death he'd have a pocket in his shroud ! — 

To die like us he is almost too proud. 

LXXXVII. 

Leave cit}- walls and hie to rural vales; 

Leave business cares and come across to me ; 

The city is a dull satiety ; 
But come and jump with me the old moss rails; 
Let's gad like boys thro' dusky intervales ; 

For here is Nature clothed in rarity; 

And here is Nature's amplest liberty ; 
The wildbirds chorus with a thousand gales. 

And then you'll think of God ! For He alone 

Hath made the beechwood flower, the gadding vine 

In beauty's tangled nooks, and on the stone 

Placed mossy loveliness, while lavish wine 

From far ambrosial lands outsparkles red 

Where thousand vines have over-canojoied. 



INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 51 

LXXXVIII. 

And these are Intimations of the Land 

Beyond the stars ; since everywhere is God ; 
In meadow vale and waving goldenrod ; 

In woods, and old fence flowers on every hand ; 

The beechen tree with wdldly woven strand, 
Outdoing art in naturalness. The sod 
With its commingled loveliness, where nod 

The wildflowers, by the Southern zephyrs fanned. 

And so my song is full of Intimations 

Of Heaven, such as every heart inay see 

In vale and valley, in the rare creations 

Of God ! And let me say in song to thee : 

"Win earth, and all thy heart may rightly crave; 

But win that other Life beyond the grave ! " 

LXXXIX. 

How beautiful is Lycidas in song ! 

How beautiful are flowers upon the walls 
Of crumbling abbeys ! What fresh coronals 

Has Nature placed upon the grave of wrong ! 

Upon the grave of Pompeys once so strong 
In glittering Imperialism ! But calls 
The blackbird by a Caesar's ruined halls, 

And o'er their dust still tramps the Roman throng ! 

For Caesars only won the crown of earth ; 

They only wade thro' slaughter to a throne ; 
The widow with her mite may win the birth 

That crowns with everlasting life alone ; 
For did she not give more than all the Jews ? 
But he's not best who sits in costliest pews. 



52 ' INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 

XC. 

In In Memoriam what beaut}- shines ! 

In Adonais how the thought expands 
In beauty ! Lycidas in Milton hands 

Is rival ; and the English laureate's lines 

Still crowd them hard. For these are Malmsey wines 
Of song to me. The grapes of many lands 
Have made their nectarine. Love's golden strands 

Have bound them. See him hidden in the vines ! 

And so the glory of the sky is here 

In love's untrammeled song. For Muses nine 
Caught splendors from the heavens above the mere ; 

Put rhythmic numbers in the poet's line, 
Till such the beauty in their pictured art 
We tender love's best offerings of the heart. 

XCI. 

Wisdom excelleth folly. Be ye wise 

In preconceived work, and fleeting Time 
Will give thee lore from Oriental clime 

Where pearls may glitter to enraptured eyes ; 

Where God's great sun in happy, vaulted skies, 

Smiles graciously. And hear the onward chime 
Of nevei"-ceasing worlds. And yet the rhyme 

Of His new Paradise still hear, since lies 

tieaven forever at' the end of life ! 

For though ye win the shekels of the gods, 
And go about tliis world in purple, strife, 

Contention, war, shall rage al:)out thee ; sods 
With Love's heroic blood shall still be red ; 
P>ut win the bay that crowns the Christian dead ! 



INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 53 



XCII. 



The Qiieen of England ! Here is earthly glory ; 

The Tsar of Russia ! Here is earth renown ; 

Our President may wear Imperial crown 
And still lose Heaven ! Our Gladstone old and hoary 
Is crowned by Love ! But Corsicans are gory 

In butchered blood ! And hostile cannon drown 

The cry of Pity ! Some are great in town ; 
A Stevenson is great in tranced story ! 

And yet I'd call ye from this vain Ambition 

To that great Moment when the highest King 

Must bow ! For Love, and Life, and white Contrition, 
Are more than these ! Yet, love the purple Spring : 

The vagrant Summer. But in loving them 

Lose not that never-fading Diadem ! 

XCIII. 

Go under cooling stars, and walk amid 

The quiet glooms, and solitar}' be ; 

For I would have you touch Eternity 
Alone ! Go seek the mouldering graveyard hid 
In tangled briar ; not where doughty Cid 

Lies buried in his pomp, but where the tree 

And amorous vine, in wild serenity, 
Have made the only earthly pyramid ! 

The tangled brushes cross the path ; and here 

Are Death and old Neglect ! There's not a friend 

To place a flower, no eye to drop the tear 

Of sympathy ! But who can tell the end ! 

For once was beauty nurtured here, the eve 

Of Pity mutely turning to the sky ! 



54 INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 

XCIV. 

Tlic mouldering stones make only trite appeal 

To our humanity ; and Memory 

Has lost the chain, once Love and Purity 
Welded ^yith golden links. The zephyrs steal 
In crooning lullabies ; but can you feel 

The touch of love? Some died in Chastit}- ! 

But who were they? And did they cross the Sea 
Of jasper? Only Heaven can reveal ! 

But pause amid this Desolation. Here, 
Ma3d-iap, a king is buried, or an earl 

Who wore the ermine. Who will shed a tear 
Above their dust? Red amethyst and pearl, 

Or nectar of the gods can never saye ; 

Find Heaven, and conquer mystery of the Grave ! 

xcv. 

But read ye, if ye ma}', the fate of these ; 

They joined the grand Procession to the Grave ! 

A hundred years, and like an ocean wave 
They vanish ever, and forever ! Seas 
Now roll between. But fall upon thy knees. 

And while the waters of Oblivion laye 

The shores of Memory, sing a quiet stave 
To Death ; for here he has his sovereignties ! 

And while ye kneel, O ask the willing Heart : 
"Is Earth or Heaven my Principality?" 

I do not curse thee,' for I love thine art; 
I love the real, great Reality 

Of life. Yet earth shall crumple like scroll ! 

But, will you win it and lose your own soul? 



INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 



XCVI. 



I love to hear the harp in quiet days ; 

I love to hear the birds in jargonings 

Of song ; the crows in guttural caws in Spring's 
New life; I love to hear' the blackbird's lays 
Among the wakening hiils ; I love the ways 

Of happy childhood ; and the whirring wings 

Of migratory birds a memory brings 
To me of ever-vanished yesterdays ! 

And yet I dream iny dreams, and visions chase 
Each other through the channels of delight 

That lead to Him ! For there I see His face 
A shining glory ! Far across the night 

My vision is a vision unto me 

Where reigns the Nazarene of Galilee ! 

XCVII. 

I love the earth ; how beautiful to me 

No muse can tell ; I love the babbling brook 
That stealeth to the sea ; I love to look 

At emerald breakers dashing from the sea 

In organ cannonade "with majesty ; 

I climb the hills, and like an open book 
I read the page of Nature. On his crook 

A shepherd leans in rapt tranquillity. 

And these are pictures that have chained my heart 

To earth ! And sometimes comes the thought to me 

"How can this Heaven be lovelier.?" For art 
And Nature, masterly and curiously, 

Have made our earth so beautiful, I say: 

"Can Paradise be fairer in that Day.?" 



56 INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 

XCVIII. 

But, draw the liow, and be a citizen 

Of wholesome pleasure ; dare to win the love 
Of minstrel maid. And yet the stars above 

Are looking on thee. Be a denizen 

Of Faery. Yet, beyond your mortal ken 
A star is shining ; and a spotless dove 
Is winging. Toss the gem and tinsel glove ; 

Pour out the ink, and lay aside the pen ! 

For, lackaday, the world has won your heart ! 

Ye cannot serve two masters ! So, have done 
With acting ! Worship 'gen the sculptor's art ; 

The fashioned jewel, and the diamond won 
From kingdoms in the earth, and drink the wine 
Of Bacchus, putting off the One divine ! 

XCIX. 

And yet these holy Intimations are 

The true outpourings of a human heart ; 
I would not clothe them in adorned art ; 

But ere you cross this life's great Harbor Bar, 

O find that fadeless, everlasting Star 

That shines in Heaven ! And then the winged Dart 
Will lose its sting ! Since in the crowded mart 

E'en Death will come, and Life's funereal car ! 

For, such is life. But life is bounded by 

Death ! Heaven alone will never pass away ; 

So, win this world ; but win across the sky 

That other World ; and when the Judgment Day 

Shall come, a crown of glory shall be thine, 

F.eautiful and fadeless from a Hand divine I 



INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 



c. • 



Turn down the glass that held the sparkling wine 
Of pristine days ; eschew the ballet now, 
And take the wine-crown from thy wrinkled brow ; 

For these are days that you should be divine 

In heart ; for you are naarked by facial line 

Of cards and dice, by cares that make you bow 
In gloomy attitude. The great Ship's prow 

Is nearing its last port across the brine ! 

So, let the glad days be a memory gone 

In faded mists. Forget the glittering bar 

With portly tender, and sail surely on 

To that great Haven beyond the western star ; 

For now the glory of the earth is past ! 

'Tis Heaven or Hell you have to face at last ! 

CI. 

The moon has smiled upon thy face; the skies 
Have arched their welken over thee ; the stars 
Have shone upon thee with translucent bars 

Of light ; but soon a mist will cross thine eyes 

Forever ! To his home the eagle flies 

On buoyant wing ; and e'en the pasture bars 

Are just at home ! But you that conquered Mars 

Are homeless ! Out of reach thy heaven lies ! 

So, close the game ; throw down the loaded dice ; 

A knock is on thy door at last ; for Death 
Is no respecter ! Rules of coarse or nice 

He knoweth not. A pestilential breath. 
And weeds and lovely flowers together lie ; — 
In losing Life the verv soul shall die ! 



oS INTI.MATIOXS OF HKAA'KX 



'CII. 



Once Love and you Vvent hand in hand, and all 

The skies were flushed with Hope's new radiant smile ; 

You sailed for aye to some Hesperian isle 
Of song- and fruit. No interposing Avail 
Of Eden harrassed. Earth thy banquet-hall 

Of flower and jest and wine. With snare and wile 

Only sweet Eros came in pranked st3le 
Of new delights, with many a w^inding mall. 

But all has changed. The light has faded out; 

The earth seems like a ball of rolling mist; 
At last you've ta'en the never-swerving route 

Of life. But Love and you have met and kist 
The last lip-kiss. And yet I'd hold out hope; 
For e'en at death the Gates of Pearl are ope I 

cin. 

You may be sitting at your humble meal ; 

You may be dining with a king in state 

With glittering crown of gold ; but Fate, e'en Fate. 
Wnil dog thy steps. The rosy red may steal 
Across the pallor of thy cheeks ; the peal 

Of tinkling glasses half and half translate 

The music of thy love ; yet added rate 
And rate, thy coming doom will half re\-eal. 

So, when the Angel comes to thee with scroll 
Of faded years, e'en then forget thy gold. 

Thy loves, and from the ruins save thy soul ; 

Since now desire has gone; thou art too old 

To care for petty gewgaws of the earth ; 

Now Heaven is beauteous as a flower at l)irth. 



INTIMATIONS OF HKAYEX 59 



CIV 



And yet one glimpse, one faint Auroral flush 
Of Life, is all the hoping heart requires 
To toil along to death ; for such desires 

Are heralds of delight ; and fruits are lush 

And ripe, and life's new rosy's modest blush 

Is on the cheek, and bands of voiced choirs 
Sing seraph songs, and all along the wires 

Comre song-tones like sweet bells in even's hush. 

And yet a throw of chance ; for one transgression 
Leadeth across the Styx. Thy cap and bells 

May be a safeguard ; for the fool's confession 

Is surely : '"Crown sometimes a doom foretells ! " 

Temptation is to those of finer movdd ; 

Beauty is sought, and beauty can be sold ! 

cv. 

He plays life's ditty on a mellow flute ; 

One plays it with a cymbal and a gong ; 

A Burns has sung it in a Highland song ; 
Another in an attitude as mute 
As statues dreams it. Down a little chute 

A brook is scampering to a bvisier throng 

In cities far, perhaps to some Hong Kong ; 
But who another's song would substitute? 

For you would still be you, and I e'en I ; 

My song may be from out a simple heart ; 
And you may love in cedar shades to lie ; 

Another still love art for only art ; 
But what your song, no matter, high or low, 
Some aimless fingers o'er the strings mav go. 



60 INTIMATIOXS OP HEAVEN 

CVL 

The clock will strike ; but let it strike at last 

The final stroke. Why should we care for this? 
We turn our lips to win the farewell kiss 

Of love. Perhaps a kindly hand will cast 

A spray of lilac on our casket. "Hast 

Thou loved us? " In the Aidenn vales of bliss 
The question may re-echo. Things amiss 

May then be righted when our graves are grassed. 

And yet we lay the old coat by ; the boot 

Is wrinkled, and the clothes are frayed ; and we 

Are worn and running down ; but let them hoot 
Their owl-notes to the moon, a jasper sea 

Has snowy barque awaiting at the dock, 

And heaven is ours no matter what o'clock. 

CVII. 

I do not know? Go pull the briar and rose; 

Go win the sailing lily on the stream ; 

And take thy little meed of salt and dream 
Thy nights away, for these are God. Night knows 
Her crowned white queen ; and every flower that blows 

On wayside fells. But ope the magic Ream 

Of Life. Thy name is writ thereon ! The gleam 
Of Paradise is where the west sun goes. 

For you have won the radiance of the stars 

Of white Eternity ! And though the clock 

Strike three or one, to you the silver bars 

Are shining. You have heard the final knock ; 

And crowned for that Valhalla of the skies 

Thy death is sleep to thine immortal eyes. 



INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 61 



CVIII. 



At old Uxmal palatial ruins lie 

In glorious crown of weeds and gadding vines ; 

And yet a perished hand hath made these lines 
Of ancient days ; at Teocalli high 
The mouldering stones are piled. The song, the sigh 

Of winds are here. The red Lepanto wines 

Have drowsed their memor}^ And the lichen signs 
Of old Decay are on them, far or nigh. 

The work of man shall perish from the earth ; 

And yet he buildeth better than he knows 
Who builds a temple for that higher Birth 

Beyond the sun and stars ; and orange bows 
Shall span above him ; and amrita tree 
Shall bloom for him beyond mortality ! 

CIX. 

This higher criticism ; ah ! What of it ? 

Is God the object of their search ? Is He 

The object solely ? On a chartless sea 
I fear they sail. What one can spare a bit, 
A shred of His great book.? Come, go and sit 

At Jesus' feet ! And let the Bible be ; 

The more you tamper, more the Deity 
Will disappear ; the dove of hope may flit. 

'Tis well enough. We cannot spare the whale, 
Nor Jonah ; they are sacred to the Book ! 

Take these, as soon destroy the rended Veil, 

Saint Luke, or John, or James ; since as you look 

In these, a hundred things may meet the gaze 

That puzzle you. God's ways are not our ways. 



G2 INTIMATIOXS OF IIEAVF.N 

ex. 

Accept the rose; who put tlie fragrance there? 

And sec tliat vviUlflower by the winding wall ; 

Who placed it there? that ivy crowning all 
In dainty amorousness? Pier cheek is fair 
As fragrant flowers, a wreath of golden hair 

Vaileth her face. Are not these wonders? Saul 

Did miracles. Moss and ivy cover hall 
And palace. Wonders meet us ever\ where. 

A blade of grass has mysteries for me ; 

An apple-blossom typifies a thought 
To some. The great commotion of the sea 

O'erwhelms my heart, and therefore I am not 
The one to take a single word away 
From that great Book of books ! 'Tis na}-, and nay ! 

CXI. 

We often build to beautv with our thought 

Aerial habitations of delight : 

We place our statues in them marble white. 
Till everything to beauty has been wrought ; 
The pillared roof, the walls with silver bought 

In foreign lands ; the stars that gem the night 

Have lent their lustre, till a happv vvight 
We sit, for all our fancy has been caught. 

So, build these happy fabrics of the brain ; 

Dream dreams and have thy visions of the night; 
Be herald of a merry-footed train 

Of joys ; but, never let it leave the sight 
That all this loveliness will sometime fade. 
And that the last earth-time ma}' soon be pla\ed. 



INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 63 



CXII. 



One loves his German coat of arms for aye ; 
Another Russian ; and Italian blood 
Would flow for Italy, ; and in the mud 

The hostile foe would trail our Flag. The lay 

Of Highland clans would sound in Scottish fra}^ 
With pibroch notes. The roses red may bud 
And bloom on all alike. Some Captain Dudd 

May show his stars ; but I am I that Day ! 

So, empty honors, what are they.f" We strut 

With titles and a golden uniform ; 
But wipe away the battle's grime and smut ; 

Forget the tattered flag, the leaden storm 
Of strife ; will any gloried shoulder star 
Be passport sure at that eternal Bar? 

CXIII. 

In archaeology of Jewish lands, 

Egyptian or Arcadian, the bard 

May delve ; the scholar here is crowned, starred ; 
Antiquities are but the golden sands 
Of Yukon vales to him ; his velvet hands 

Are soiled by mould ; he 'd give his dearest pard 

To delve in spoils in some Assyrian yard 
Of old, where not a mausoleum stands. 

But these are earthly loves, the intimations 

Of sure obliteration and old Death ; 
For all the martial, pantomimic nations 

Of earth have marched with unabated breath 
To that eternal silence of the Grave, 
Where only life's defeated banners wave. 



(j-t INTniATIONS OF HEAVEN 

CXIV. 

Great aqueducts in Roman lands mav flow 

With waters of the gods ; but best of these, 
Is great Campagna round old Rome ; are trees 

Amid its ruined glories? Once the bow 

Of happy skies o'erarched here. I know 

Of Asia, Spain and Greece and France, but glees 
Of wildbirds echo in their ruins. Lees, 

With mournful waves, sing glories long ago. 

So, touch Divinity, and span the years 

Of Time; for Rome and Greece shall pass awav 
Forever ! Statues with their marble tears 

May stand in classic shades ; but when that Day 
Of days shall come, the monuments will go, 
Tlie Sphinx and tomb with not a line to show. 

cxv. 

Mv Preacher telleth there is nothing new 

Under the sun ; so Rome was Rome before, 
And Paris Paris. On the New World's shore — 

New? African or Pole or wandering Jew 

Were here great asons gone ? Beneath the blue 
I walk ; the little auk may rise and soar 
Above me. Nay. Extinct. And Nevermore I 

Is writ on Iceland, Denmark where he flew. 

We build Love's dearest monument to last ; 

But soon the ivy finds its chiseled base. 
And moss obliterates the name. The blast 

Has blacked it. Few shoi't decades and no trace 
Remains. But he is building better far 
Who builds his monument bevond that Star! 



INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 65 



CXVI. 



But, siiif? a new song ; don't be gloom}-, I 

Would touch the riftless flute; for love and songs 
And bridal, marches, happy-footed throngs 

Of minstrel maids and boys, a starry sky. 

With endless bright processions passing by 

In gala dress, v^ith cymbals, golden gongs 

Of melody, are not classed among life's wrongs,' 

But are life's blessings ere the body die. 

The hand that arched the rainbow o'er the storm 
Has filled our cornucopia with flowers 

Of every hue ; and we may deck our form 

With fabrics of the loom, and crown the hours 

With rosy-footed joys. Yet, more than this ; 

A time will come to take the last earth kiss ! 

CXVII. 

Blace ampyx on thy hair, a fillet band 
Of loveliness, a snood of tast}' art, 
A diadem, a crown ; but keep thy heart 

Unsullied. Rings are pretty on the hand, 

And in the hair an evergreen or strand 

Of laurel. Go in beauty to the mart, 
And ride in nice coupe or fangled part, 

But ever have in view that cloudless land. 

Long-faced Religion, 't is the creed of men ; 

For my religion laughs the whole day long, 
Sith Paradise is ever in the ken. 

And every heart-pulse leapeth in a song ; 
Nay, nay, religion is to sw^eeten me, 
And sweeter make mv sour humanitv. 



60 IXTIMATIOXS OF IIKAVKN 

CXVIII. 

Pour out the ampul oil ; these sacred thin2;s 
Are beautiful in pure chrismation, I 
Feel holier with the holier vessels nigh ; 

I love to hear the church-bell when it rings 

Its Sunday matins, or in vespers sings 

Religiously. The stillness of the sky 
Seems stiller, and as music floateth bv 

Dies off in half religious questionings. 

The firebells and the wedding bells ma}- sovmd 
In variant note ; but great cathedral bell 

Gives us uncertain sound ; and in a swound 
Of His religious glory dieth. Spell, 

With images of cherubim, hath held 

Us thralled, as memories from forgotten eld. 

CXIX, 

The Indo-Chinese architecture, grand 

111 half fantastic-like imaginings; 

The temple of Confucius with its wings 
Of sculpture, great Pagoda, make this lantl 
Unique ; for here the sculptor's cunning hand 

Hath wrought with inspiration. Yet there clings 

A reverence false, kaleidoscope of things. 
As purposeless as pictures on the sand. 

And yet hath beauty reveled in this clime ; 

Some phases in a certain line of art 
Teach that a subtle cunning and a rh}me 

Of trained workmanship in many a part 
Of Indra's temple, or Madura's fine, 
Hath made the whole or kindred parts divine. 



INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 67 



cxx. 



Spread dust upon the tablets ; trace for me 
A diagram of loveliness, and paint 
Ideal splendors, tracery as faint 

As soft Auroral flush, and like a sea 

Of glass, repose in beauty, with the tree, 
Or vine, or Tuscan abacus ; a saint 
At vespers, v^ith a holy plea or plaint 

To that white One of ideality. 

And give me Grecian Doric, with the trick 
Of chiseled workmanship, Corinthian, 

Or Roman Doric ; yet the candle's wick 
Is burning to its ebb. A Caliban 

May win our true life's everlasting goal. 

Worship this loveliness, but save thy soul. 

CXXI. 

With low abased wing bow not thy head. 

But bear thy chevron like a god, thy shield 
Of dented glory on contested field 

Of valor ; let no battle's sun set red 

O'er thy defeat, though mountains of the dead 
Appal thee. What thy battle, never yield 
If Right be on thy banner. And dare wield 

The axe till every hostile foe has fled. 

And yet there is a braver fight for thee ; 

Yet not a host with banners floating high 
Above a thousand spears, but Purity ! 

The quiet hue of unimpassioned eye ; 
The half unconscious glory of a soul 
That leans on God with murmured barcarolle. 



^^ INTniATIOXS OK IIEAA-KX 

CXXII. 

Put on thy red abolla ; I have naught 

To wager 'gainst the glory of the land 

Of song and love ; and I would head a band 

Of cloaked centurians ; for every spot 

Of earth is glorified to me. I fought 

The battle of the soul. My works shall stand 
Imperishable, though the crumbling sand 

Be scattei-ed, if the keystone breaketh not. 

I lo\e the glory of the soldier ; I 

Admire the banners of the rank and file ; 

I love to see Old Glory in the sky, 

The burgee float o'er some historic jDile 

Of Britain. Envy hath no jDlace for me, 

But i^erfect Freedom's universality. 

CXXIII. 

Put deft acanthus on thy pillars ; build 

A thousand glories for thy palace ; rose 
And intersecting vine commingle ; bows 

Of knotted flowers in stone have workman skilled 

Place beautifully, as some divinity willed 
In realms of loveliness, and in repose 
Soothing to love; for dainty tracing goes 

To beautify, and life's glad heart is filled. ' 

I 'd love to be this king in marble home ; 

I 'd love to sit amid these statues white ; 
And just as daylight meets the darker gloam 

Of starry eve, and whited c^ueen of night 
Saileth in sea of clouds. And yet to me 
That other Mansion sliincs more gloriouslv. 



INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 69 



CXXIV. 



Yea, have your brave aceldama on slope 

Of Hinnom, so it please thee ; but the vale 
Of Eden booteth more. A boat with sa?i 

Far out to sea, may hold thine earthly hope. 

And through the sea-night darkness you may grope 
With only love that dares the starless gale 
Of heaven ; and this is better far than wail 

On Jewish Hinnom, earth thy horoscope. 

But minds are diff ei'ent ; one adores the muse 
On starred Parnassus ; one aceldama 

To bury strangers 'neath the mournful yews 
Of some Jehoshaphat ; a falling star 

Draweth another. But the intimations 

Of Him are in minutest earth creations. 

cxxv. 

Yet build your happy Adens in the land ; 

Make earth as beautiful as night when stars 
Are dreaming in the blue ; make little bars 

Of song ; go where the breakers roar, and stand 

A crowned Adonis ; make upon the sand 

The pictures of delight, and hum tra las 
Across the breakers. Now aloft. Jack Tars, 

And now alow, to rollei's on the strand. 

Ye cannot be too happy ; drink the wine 

Of new deliciousness, and brim the glass 

With juicy splendors of the tipsy vine 
Of love's imagination ; gem the lass 

With opal clusters. But, O happy wight, 

The Bride awaiteth in her spotless white ! 



70 IXXniATIOXS OF IIKAVKN 

CXXVI. 

Let wing-ed Vanessa Hit from room to room ; 

Let happy-throated songsters sing in cage ; 

Find gem-like splendors on the classic page 
Of genius ; have the rarest flowers in bloom, 
And put electric stars amid the gloom 

Of shortened days ; with music's note assuage 

The dissonance of thought, and sweeten age 
With gladness as it walketh to the tomb. 

Grow flowers to scatter all along life's way ; 

Build Paradises in the mind and heart ; 
Play madrigals to dancing sprite and fay ; 

Touch up thy habitation with the art 
Of Vinci, make this earth Valhalla fair; 
And yet a brighter one is waiting There ! 

CXXVIL 

Let Juno's ^'Eolus play his harp to thee 

In evening hours ; this earth is sad at best ; 
Since you may have a home, a quiet rest 

Of love ; and soon a jar comes in thy glee ; 

A tear or two, and far across the sea 

Of death, a barque is sailing to the west 

With one so dear ! In white robes she was drest 

'Tis o'er ; the waves are lapping on the lee. 

And yet I'd have you love the fairest child 
Of God ; but if He taketh one away. 

Be patient. Hath He ta'en one undeiiled ? 
Yea, be it so ; and better than astray 

In love's defilement. Doth he chasten you ? — 

Sometimes the heart is softened 'neath the vew ! 



INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 71 



CXXVIII. 



But, have th}- ship ahull ; the storms may rise. 
The breakers dash against thee, and the roar 
Of angry waters terrify, the shore 

Look horridly beautiiul to frighted eyes 

As into silver cream with emerald dyes 

They dash in glory. When the storm is o'er 
The bow, and great ship-clouds no longer pour 

Their rains, but sail away to other skies. 

And so thy heart-ship, keep her e'er ahull ; 

And so thy life-ship, keep her helm aright, 
So when the sun is sinking leaden, dull, 

And clouds in grand procession cross the light 
Of Sol, and Storm-King lowers, O thou wilt know 
Thy ship is safe, and soon will shine the bow. 

CXXIX. 

And put thy winglet ailettes on, and be 

A knight of earned valor, couch thy lance 
Of tried steel, and Edward first the chance 

Of battle seek, the banner of the free 

Hold high in glory ! Dare to cross a sea 

Of blood for honor ! Let thy charger prance 
In barded 'ray, and though a battle dance 

Of steeds, let valor crown the revelry ! 

The fight is to the hardy and the brave ; 

The glorv, honor, to the soldier true, 
And ever make thy country's banner wave, 

But, be a soldier in th}^ gi'^y or blue ; 
And yet a braver battle shall be fought 
Within the heart, with no escutcheon blot. 



72 IXTIMATIOXS OF IIKAVEN 

CXXX. 

Put on thy hanging alb, thy surplice white 

As snow, and dare be brave as Charlemagne 
Crossing the Alps; or wandering, homeless Payne 

In vagrant journeyings ; hide not thy light 

Within the bushel, let it shine as night 

Of summer skies, when not a cloud doth stain 
The starry vault, with Luna in her reign 

Of cloudless glory, palel}- pure and bright. 

And then the world will be a fairy land 

To thee, and weed and bush and blooming flower 
Will take an added beauty, as the hand 

Of Flora, with an untranslated power, 
Had added loveliness to loveliness 
Before, and tricked them in a fairer dress. 

CXXXI. 

For I can see a hint of God in all 

This loveliness ; and every sonnet built 
In linked rhymes, like gems upon the hilt 

Of famed Excalibur, are flowers on wall 

Of Eden unto me. A bird may call 

On briery knoll, an ox-e3'e daisy tilt 

On old worm fence, a drop of dew be spilt 

From blooming rose, divinity's here withal. 

A hint, suggestion, intimation slight 

As color on the lily, or the first 
New flush on summer's rose, if read aright. 

May satisfy the heart; the soul may burst 
Th' invisible bonds that bind, and ojDe the door 
To Heaven, far, far across that silent Shore! 



INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 73 

CXXXII. 

So, find a revelation in the weeds 

By cow-path, or along the dusty way 

Where hurried foot has gone ; for night and day 

Have revelations unto him who heeds 

These things. In crimson-tipped flower he reads 
Life's mysteries ; e'en the dashing of the spray 
Against the piled shells, hath word to say 

To intimation, nuns with rosary beads. 

For Nature is a self-translated book 

To those who care to read ; and Milton read 

With sealed eye, and Wordsworth with the look 
Of wisdom, till the primrose flower or dead 

Burns taught him life's acute philosophy, 

The light that never was on land or sea. 

CXXXIII. 

Yea, mount thy white Alborak steed and fly 

To Paradise, to happy Adens far 

Beyond the rising, never-setting star 
Of glory. Yet our earth with spangled sky, 
And glittering star, a woven banner high 

Above us, is a great round rolling car 

Of grandeur unto me ; and yet the Bar 
Of Death is 'twixt us where the heavens lie. 

And so as Death is here our latest guest 

On earth, O why not seek that other clime 

Where Death is not? For Edens of the blest 
Are ever and forever like a rhyme 

Of worlds, the music making music more 

And more, as master organs of that Shore. 



/4 IXTIMATIOXS OF HEAVKN 

CXXXIV. 

And thoug-h thv alca wings be short for ilight 
Across the ether pure, refined, still 
Unfurl them on the Pvrenean hill 

Of light, and sail across the stars of night, 

Beyond the crescent moon ; for Death, cold white. 
Is king of kingdoms here; so, winged quill 
And pen of gold be laid aside, for rill 

Of death is sounding e'er for lord or knight. 

And yet the glorv of this fleeting earth 

Of destined years is lovelier to me 
Than wedding dreams ; it hath a music, mirth, 

A symphony of syllabled minstrelsy, 
A Beethoven Sonata full of grand 
Memorial numbers from a master hand. 

cxxxv. 

And yet be Qiieen Alcestis in thy heart 

Of hearts, and some Euripides of verse 
May give thee immortalitv. The herse 

With empty walls, (where death has sped his dart,) 

May rumble darkly to thy cui'b ; 'tis part 

Of life ; and so I'd have thee frame no curse ; 
But be Alcestis in the universe 

Of things, and smile at death's insidious smart. 

For there's a glor}- of the stars, the sun 

That gilds the hills with beauty, and the moon 

Hanging like shield of silver, and the dun 

Meadows of Autumn, and the cannie Doon 

In Burnsland far; for I would have you win 

E'en earth, vet have the angels for thy kin. 



INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 75 



CXXXVI. 



Get Aldine books of beauty ; vases rare 

As Vestal maids, and pictures where the art 
Is perfect art ; read poems to the heart 

From masters dead or living ; bury Care 

In flowers ; and grow the peach and mellow pear 
In sunlit orchards ; fetch from foi-eign mart 
The golden jewel ; let the teardrop start 

In love, and thou shalt never know Despair ! 

For vases, curios and bric-a-brac, ' 

Adornments of embellished gold, fine scenes 

Of sunset lands, all lead along the track 

To Heaven. So, dance across the May-pole greens 

Of life ; for Eden homes are intimations ^ 

To me of Life's ideal associations. 

CXXXVII. 

For beautiful associations are 

Akin to things divine ; so beautify 

The mind, and go where quiet waters lie 

Like silver mirrors ; leap the sanded bar 

To bowered isle, and dream a flowery car 
Is bearing thee, beneath the placid sky. 
To some Hesperides, and heart and eye 

Will be united, pure as astral star. 

And then will mind and soul according well 

Make music on the gold-strings of the heart ; 

And life will lure thee like a Christabel 

In half retirement ; sith sweet love and art. 

And beauties from a thousand varied climes. 

Make Easter music with no jarring chimes. 



'6 INTIMATIONS OK HKAVEN 

CXXXVIII. 

Be brave as Algebar ; the Holy Grail 

Will come to thee if thou wilt never faint 
Beside tlie way. Have heart and dare to paint 

Ideal pictures. Dare to cross the Vale 

Of Tears, and dare put on thy linked mail 
And face the foe, I love a nun, a saint 
Of Christ at vespers, but deplore the taint 

That kills the fruit, the groan and wryed wail. 

So, be a hero. Life's a battle-ground 

To fight the battles of the days that fill - 

Our years ; and never faint at martial sound, 

The roll of drum, but storm the Lookout Hill, 

The higli redoubt, the battled palisade; 

And yet this panorama all will fade ! 

CXXXLX. 

But though a Washington in glory's cause; 
And though a Wellington at Waterloo, 
An Anton Seidl's fate may come to you 

In Wagner's funeral march of death ; so pause 

And think on death to be ; for all his laws 

Are rigid and unchanging. Dare be true 
To self, and when thy star sets in the blue 

Bright sky, crowned Love will say: "A god he was!" 

For Caesar felt the flush of life, and Grant 
And Hannibal, and mighty Corsican ; 

But weaves rolled o'er them like a mad Nahant, 
And Death the victor, stormed the barbacan 

Of life, and earthly fame was gulfed in death. 

For life to high or low is but a breath ! 



INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 77 

CXL. 

The stately minuet in Pleasure's halls ; 
The light fandango with the castanet 
In Moorish lands ; the dance on fine parquette 

With Gipsy sylph ; our land's Inaugural balls, 

May lure the heart ; the prompter's noisy calls ; 
The grand orchestral notes ; the lips still wet 
With dance-wine dew ; and yet, O Dancer ! yet « 

Music hath fled from Tara's mouldered walls. 

For music of the earth will cease at last ; 

The whirling waltz, the giddy dance, will end; 
Bvit when the fiddle stops, the tone has passed 

Into an utter silence, will it blend 
With Death's processional music to the tomb, 
When loveliest parterres no longer bloom ? 

CXLI. 

Yovir gold may build an earthly abatis 

With forked pickets, scarp and parapet, 
And you may pay to earth the goodly debt 

Of earthiness ; and yet the farewell kiss 

Of Vestal love, when life has lost its bliss, - 
Its song, would be as sweet as castanet 
In hand of Spanish love-maid, when regret 

Is all remains to crown a life amiss. 

So, crumple up life's luring manuscript. 

And lay aside the gauds and tinsel dress 
Of worldliness ; for dancing maids have tript 

To earthly measures ; and their last caress 
Will leave the sting of long-abused wine, 
Specious and lovely as a Geraldine ! 



"tS INTIMATIONS OK HEAYKN 

CXLII. 

Have dainty candelabra in thy rooms 

Of pleasure ; have thy branched chandelier 
Alight, and have Etruscan vase as clear 

As still Utopian streams, exotic blooms 

And odorous flowers ; have little quiet glooms 
For half concealed nudeness, pictures dear 
To vanished days, an artificial mere, 

And on it fairy ships with shining booms. 

And have thy harps and changing sethrioscope, 
And all the handiwork of chiseled art 

From far Italian clime ; have carved Hope, 
Euterpe, Qiieen of lyric verse, and heart 

And soul will have their highest earthly wish.! — 

Is satisfaction in this dainty dish ? 

CXLIII. 

And yet I'd ha\'e a world of art for thee. 

The song-bird, mock-bird, and the bobolink. 
The bullfinch, and a' little whirling rink 

Of treasures ; busts of captains dead at sea. 

And Termini of old antiquity, 

And philosophic Hermes ; dainty pink 
And rose, festooning chains with golden link 

And swivel, every kind of fruit and tree. 

And little silver turnstiles, golden crowned ; 

And noiseless gates of filigree ; in sooth ! 
The cravings of the heart in Coma swound 

Of earth deliciousness. And yet that booth 
Of hewed boards, so oft a laugh at Art, 
Has held the best effusions of the heart ! 



INTIMATIONS OF IIKAVEN 79 



CXLIV. 



A Portland vase is just as dear to me ; 

Mosaic work and parquetry, the nave 
In pillared church, the Anton SeidI stave 

Of Wagner song, and orientally 

Exhumed statuary, melody 

Of tranced Mozarts ; and the cypress grav^e 
I'd beautify, the streets of earth I'd pave 

With hope and joy and love eternally. 

For earth can be a paradise, a place 

Of peace and song and glory, and a land 

Of pure delight. So, turn thy wrinkled face 
Away fi'om lust, be leader of a band 

Of happy mortals destined for the skies 

Of blinding beauty to our human eyes. 

CXLV. 

Have not the Shelleys beautified our life 

In song and art.? The Tennysons have made 
A witching music in the soul, arrayed 

In more than earthly glory. Battled strife 

Disarmed by melod}' ! So, sheathe the knife 
Of slaughter, 'make no i^ed embattled raid,- 
But woo all music, for the leaf will fade. 

The flower, and death will crown the happiest wife. 

For in the grand ovations of this world 

Of fleeting loveliness, all things will perish ; 

No matter how your banner is unfurled. 

No matter how the fondest heart may cherish 

The things of earth, and so my song to thee 

Is : Win this world and Immortality ! 



so • INTIMATIOXS OK HEAVEN 

CXLVI. 

Wear Venus' cestus to awaken love 

And joy in thousand hearts ; have marble boys, 

And Caryates fair; and mixed alloys 
Of shining beauty; have a silver}- dove 
In winged marble, spangled stars above, 

A little artificial sky, and joys 

In alabaster, fabricated toys, 
And silver boats that dainty hands may shove. 

Have chiseled obelisk or corbel niche 

With fine ogee or moulding rare, a nook 

Of builded marbles, tapestries so rich 
In Oriental handiwork, a book 

Of poems hath no fine allurements. Yet 

How vain, how vain, when dying eyes are wet! 

CXLVII. 

Have clustered columns, carved balustrade. 

The wave-like cyma, dainty fret and foils. 
The feathery foliations, vines in coils 

And quirks of beauty, and a masquerade 

Of undisguised loves, no pasquinade 

Of low lampoonry, not a word that soils ; 
Sith here are knights who only use the foils 

Of Peace ! And yet this fabric fair will fade ! 

And yet I'd pile the wealth of Ind for thee, 

The treasures of a thousand shores, this earth 

Would make as beautiful as love, a sea 

Of never-ending glory ; yet, in mirth, 

In worldly splendors have one thought for Him, 

For all thy proud mirage will soon be dim ! 



INTIMATIONS OF HEAVEN 81 



CXLVIII. 



I have no word against a happy life ; 

I have no w^oi'd against a happy home ; 

I'd have another Golden Age of Rome 
For thee ; I'd have the banishment of strife, 
The quick dethronement of all war ; the knife 

Of Spaniard I would sheathe ; the golden Tome 

Translate for every country where the gloam 
Is thickest, when the hostile word is rife. 

I'd crown McKinley with the Wreath of Peace ; 

I'd crown the world, the Regent Qiieen of Spain 
My Country with the glory that was Greece, 

If Love shall reign ! Above the mangled slain 
I'd drop the tear of Pity ; for this world 
Is Love. No hostile banner be unfurled ! 

CXLIX. 

So, build thy castles in the air, but think 

On Death ! Have pleasure-houses if you will, 
But, listen for that Voice so small and still; 

Have pastures green, the lily, rose and pink ; 

But, weld for aye life's breaking, broken link ; 
And build thy mansion on a lordly hill ; 
But night and day there is a quiet rill 

Running, and soon 'twill reach the final Brink ! 

So, in these Intimations find the route 

Of glory ; dare inherit beauties here 

On earth ; but never let the lamp go out 

That lights the way beyond the shedded teai' ; 

For life at best is but a passing dream 

Of Faery, thousands lost upon the Stream ! 



82 INTIJIATIOXS OK IIKAVKN 

CL. 

]3ut now farewell, a poet's last adieu ; 

A happ\- singer's last, his parting word ; 

His song was not the song of nesting hini 
In quiet nooks, liut trumpet sounds to you ! 
And never bard more honest trumpet blew 

Unto his clan ! For with this age I'm stirred 

To might, since these are doubtings I have heard: 
''I doubt my Bible and old things and new ! " 

But I : "Have faith, for life is full of good ; 

Large-hearted men and noble women live ; 
I like to go where Beecher Stowes have stood ! 

I know a million silent hands will give ; 
I know that though a darkness pall the night, 
Behind it all the great sun shineth brig-ht ! " 



THE LADY OF SANTA ROSA 



THE LADY OF SANTA ROSA 

DRAMATIS PERSON^E 

Anso, High Priest of Satuim. 
Don Miguel, cousin of Inez. 
Lola Moreno, a Gitano dancing girl. 
Dolores de Castro, a Spanish beauty. 
Prince Henrique, son df a foreign duke. 
Senorita Inez, Don Miguel's cousin. 
Alberti, Lola's gipsy lover. 
Middle, a street clown. 

ACT I. 

scene I. 
Place., Spain. In a room of Father Anso. 
E7iter Don Miguel. 
Don Mig. A goodly morning to you. Father Anso. 
Anso. It is a goodly morning, Miguel. 
But inornings are not new to hoary Spain ; 
Since long, long years ago, ere Spaniard lived, 
Or goodly Spain was in the almanac 
Of time, did mornings blush upon the earth, 
The hoary hills, the mountains vast and grand ; 
And e'en when swarthy Moors held martial sway. 
And with their valor dared to conquer kingdoms. 



:^6 THK LA1>V UK SANTA UUSA 

Don ^lig- Thv lang-uai»-e is as ancient as the hills 
Of Spanish empires; thine ideas are gray 
As time himself. But ever did old men 
Return to huried past, to times agone 
Adown the centuries, and so far away 
That younger men like me are lost in whirt 
Of multitudinous years. But. holy father, 
Pray tell me what thou fashionest with ai'dor 
Antl undenied desire. Since all thy face. 
Thy manner, doth betray thine adoration. \ 

Anso. Young man, thou art as splendid as the sun ; 
Thou art as brilliant as the gloried sky ; 
And in thy courtly dress of hat and feathers, 
And buckled breeches, broidered, flowing waist, 
With flowered shoe, and tinseled, silk-like stockings, 
And worked by lady's dainty hand, thy sword 
With diamonds decked, and filigree-like handle. 
Thou art, belieye me, Don, the greatest knight 
And courtier in all Spain. Men envy thee. 

Don Mig. I did not come to woo thy flatter}- ; 
For such as I need not the lying tongue 
Of Spain's society. I'm as independent 
As greatest lord of Cadiz or Peru, 
Or any count of Mediterranean waters 
That babble out their old salt song. 'Tis I, 

Priest of Saturn, and no other lord ; 

So, tell me of thy workmanship, this thing 
That thou dost fashion to such comely shape. 

Anso. By all the powers of heaycn and lower earth, 

1 mark thee for a god of trouble. Beauty 
Like thine, and courtliness, and prowess rare. 



THE LADV OF SANTA ROSA §7 

Will lead to old temptation, which hath sat 
On life's high parajDet and watched for prey 
In coming babe ; for loveliness in maid ; 
For glory, comeliness in thoughtless man ; 
For gloried fame in some Homeric hero ;• 
A soldier of a foVtune high as captains ; — 
And thus thy dazzling presence will outshine 
Thine earthly rivals, till Don Miguel 
Becometh star of finest magnitvide. 

Don Mig. And thereby falleth from his firmament. 

Ansa. Unless thou hast an old man's fortitude. 
And such a self-restraint as onlj- gray 
Hairs have. 

Don Mlg. Then will I paint my hair as white 
As hoary snows of winters; for if wisdom, 
And fortitude, and self-restraint, and glory 
Are the constituent parts of white-haired age, 
Then, Father Anso, I, Don Miguel 
De Santa Rosa de Granada, will 
Grow old so fast my hair becometh white 
In single night. 

Anso. He maketh light of me ! 

Don jSIig. I beg thy priestly pardon ; I mvist have 
My courtly pun. But, hearken, Priest of Saturn, 
There's not a man in Cadiz, ay ! Nor Spain, 
Who beareth greater love for thee ; since thou 
Art wise beyond thy times. Thou art a prophet, 
A seer. And were I in a troublous state 
Of mind, to thee I'd hie. 

Anso. Then thou art troubled.'' 

Old love, forever new, hath late beset thee. 



88 THE LADY OK SANTA KOSA 

And, like a cobra, still retains his hold. 

Don Mlg. Then thou hast heard of this Don's love ? 
I see ! 
All Spain will soon reiterate the story. 
But, hark, my Father Anso, I have come 
To visit thee with such a tale of love 
That e'en the stars do weep. So, lend thine ear. 

Anso. I will. Tho' new this love to thee, 'tis old 
To earth as life. 'Tis old to me. But, speak ; 
For love hath winged feet and tongue, and sleeps 
Not till his enemies and friends alike 
Do hear his tale of worldly lamentation. 

Don Mig. Thou talkest as old love had late de- 
throned thee. 
But, listen to my tale ; for such my love 
No man e'er knew or felt a sweeter. . I 
Lie down at night on grassy mead, and there 
Beneath the whited stars, I see my love ; 
In draperied room, in festooned bed, I dream 
Of beauty's things, the loveliness of ladies' 
Eyes. Lying half asleep in semblance strange 
Of death, I paint with Raphael beauty, love. 
Love, love, with such a train of rare delights. 
And pleasures, joys and dainty ecstasies, 
That, Father Anso, I would die the death 
Of love, if 'twould not break two loving hearts. 

Anso. Thy love is new as newly kenned star.? 

Don Mig. And brighter far than sweet Andromeda. 

Anso. And sorely it doth trouble thee.? 

Do7i Mig. Yea, father ; 

And now I come to thee for solace rare ; 
Since, go I 'mong my kinder friends, they smile ; 



THE LADY OP SANTA ROSA 89 

And 'mong unkinclliei-, their lips do curl ; 
So, unto thee I turn as one who will 
Judge me precisely, at my finest worth. 

Anso. Then sit thee by me, as by stroke of hand. 
And soothing word, to thy responsive eye 
I'd lend the glory of mine age, and paint 
The picture of thy love-led life. Now sjDcak. 

Don Mig. Her name hath music, voweled too and round, 
Dolores ! Was there ever such a name ? 
'Tis sweet as nectar in old bottles found, 
With such aroma unto me, that life 
Goes double in its sweetness. Love I sleep. 
And love I dream. 'Tis all my life's new business. 

Anso. And never busier man than thou, Granada ; 
For love will give a wink of sleep when poppy 
Leaves, drunk in wine', do hide the petty thought ; 
Since just so long as thought remaineth stable, 
Is paramount, so long will love delay 
The hour of sleep. But bards have sung Dolores. 

Don Alig. For such her beauty, such her ravishment. 

Anso. But is she not in everybody's mouth.? 

Don Mig. Aye, beggar, lord and count and courtly 
knight ! 

Anso. Then jealousy may yet beset th}^ heart. 
Since ever}' courth' clown doth homage pay. 

Don Mig. But I'm a better, since with welded sword 
I'll hurl them all to native dust, and she 
Will hold me high in favor as the hero 
Of many battles. 

Atiso. Once the glory gone, 

The cute enravishment that clothes a name 
In lustrous beauty, and Don Miguel 



^0 THE LADY OF SANTA ROSA 

Becometh tame, a man without his art; 
A duteous husband with a rusting sword, 
His epaulets displaced and shoulder-star. 

Do7i Mig. Then unto newer battles will I turn ; 
Call forth all doughty heroes of fhe brand, 
And say : I offer unto thee Dolores 
As beauteous prize ; and any swordsman dare 
To face Granada, hath her hand in fee. 
If hap so shape his fortune ! 

Anso. Said e'en well, 

Don Miguel. But, hearken. What I build 
With rarest divination, as you asked me. 
Is blessed heart of Santa Rosa. Such 
An amulet as sons of old Poseidon 
Dared worship in their lowly holiness. 
'Twas at this time, Don Miguel, long gone, 
Long years ago. The Trident then was used 
By sons of old Poseidon as the symbol 
Of fair Atlante. 

Don -j\Iig: Yet from what was 't made ? 

Anso. 'Twas fashioned from a great fire opal, which 
Was purchased at old Atlan of the west. 
An amulet as beautiful as life ; 
As pure as holy heaven's whitest star. 
And valuable beyond imagination ! 
I prize it as the ap^ole of mine eye, 
And, too, as dearest daughter of mv heart ; 
And touched on holy week, it giveth peace. 
Tranquillity and hope, enlightenment 
Spiritual. 

Don Mig. Then will I dare possess it, father, 
As talisman, an amulet of love. 



THE LADY OP SANTA ROSA 91 

An anchor to my soul, a charm to make 
E'en better days for darling love and I, 
To sweeten mine already sweetened love, 
And make my dreams as beautiful as Cupids 
Who wing their way in night-time o'er the couches 
Of old new lords of love, till lovely Cadiz 
Seems full of Spanish maids and brilliant ladies ! 

Anso. Thou art full sick with love, Don Miguel ; 
And e'en thy waking evening hour is dream 
To thee, since I am dead these hundi^ed years ! 

Do7i Mig. Dead? Anso, thou art riddle of the gods. 
And, Ate-like, thou wouldst befuddle me 
With hate and old revenge. But love tells true 
Thou art no ghost, but ghost tho' thou mayst be ; 
Yet linger with thine Atlan story, since, 

Priest of Saturn, I have come to thee 
With many a piteous tale ; for love besets me 
Upon three several sides. 

A71SO. I am a ghost ; 

But tell thine everlasting tale, since love 
Hath thousand tongues, and stories sweetened rare. 
And 's never done till lady sleepeth last 
In marble tomb of unrelenting death ; 
But sjDcak, Granada; love is never old. 

Don Mig. Upon three several sides I aiift beset : 
Upon my wicked side, because my sword 

1 carry there, fair wild Gitano sits, 
The dancing girl of Gades, with a skin 
Olive, and eyes as dark as midnight skies, 

A beggar beauty whose bright dagger, father, 
Would cut my heart for unrequited love. 

Anso. A dangerous lass is this Moi'eno, Don ; 



9*2 THE LADY OF SANTA ROSA 

Her race is treacherous. Love her, all is well. 

Don Mlg. I love her as the gadflv or the jackdaw, 
As cat the mouse, the boy the butterfly, 
A prisoner his cell, a queen her throne. 

Anso. Why riddle thus.^ Thou lov'st her for the hour.? 
She is thy beer, but not thy luscious wine } 

Don Mig. Yea, common as my beer, mine ancient sack ; 
But Cousin Inez ! Ah, High Priest of Saturn, 
She 's jewel fashioned finely. Born a beautv, ^ 

She yet sits on the north of my affections ; 
Since though as lovely as a star, as pin*e, 
I hate her ; for I 'm plighted by my father, 
Her father. 

Anso. 'Tis love's old, old story, Don. 

Don Mig. To keep the name of Santa Rosa, father. 
Imperishable in the realm of Spain, , 

Don Pedro Santa Rosa de Granada, 
Father of Inez, and mine old ambitious 
Pa, touched their Spanish noses o'er their wine, 
And plighted us for life, eternit}^ ; 
But little caring for this Inez, father. 
Vet hear my stoiy. She was foolish eight. 
And I sixteen, when o'er their Gascon wine 
They plighted us. Forsooth ! Two paltrj- kna^•es 
Who only m6ney had in winy thought. 
I know she's fair as lilies of the valley. 
As pure as Geyser waters, lucent wines. 
That she is heiress to the Santa Rosa 
Estates. 

Afiso. In case of her demise.? 

Do?? Mig. Then, father, 

All Santa Rosa lands revert to me. 



THE LADY OF SANTA KOSA 93 

Ansa. And thou dost many her? 

Do7i j\Tig- 'Tis but the same. 

Yet, listen. Still another lindeth place 
Within my heart. 

Anso. Thou hast a triple love.? 

Don Mig. Indeed ! But out of such a brilliant three 
I choose Dolores Castro ! She is fair ; 
The glory of Seville ; and can be had 
Just for the winning. 

Anso. Let me tell thee now, * • • 

Forever ! Choose fair Inez for thy wife, 
And all thine earthly troubles will be o'er. 

Don Mig. Forbear, oh Priest of Saturn ! Love will 
guide. 

Ansa. Once married to Dolores, trouble, trouble. 

Don Mig. But love is mine immortal counterpart. 

An.'io. Once wedded to the dark Moreno, life 
Will be a farce or tragedy of old. 

Don Mig. Believe me, Anso, thou art very ghost ; 
For I am sleeping here upon the public 
Stage, aye ! the world's great rostrum, where we actors 
But do our unavoidable parts, and quick 
I^etire from life and hoary seeming death, 
To turn to native dust, the food for worms 
And all things vile. But, father, answer me, 
What makest thou } 'Tis rare beyond compare. 
And fills me with a kind of holiness. 

Anso. Young man, I am the shade of other years ; 
A.m resurrected from a past so distant. 
It is forgot, and things of now seem strange 
And wonderful. But since I 'm here amid 
Thy dreaming hours, I '11 tell thee all my story. 



94 THE LADY OF SANTA IIOSA 

I am tlic Priest of Satiiri:. I am mi'^h'tN' 

In spirituality. Goodness is my business. 

I lived when th' Trident was the sN'mbol of 

Atlantic, when the prows of all her vessels 

Spread fame throughout the kingdoms of the world ; 

Her colonies did flourish from Peru, 

Central America, Spain, and Ireland, Egypt, 

The Mediterranean, ay ! the then known world. 

With knowledge strange, occult of hidden things, 

I sought this Atlan opal, rare and fine ; 

To amulet in shape of human heart 

I fashioned it, a gem, a raiity ; 

And whoso doth possess it, hath protection 

From Ate, Nemesis, and all bad gods. 

Don Mig. But who so lucky as to gain its keeping? 

Aiiso. To him, who was a ruler o'er proud. Gades, 
My nephew, was the amulet presented. {^Rx. Anso. 

Don Mig. (Aside.) St! Mark ye, I, Granada, must 
possess it. 
Now out upon thee as a priestly coward ! 
What ! Gone ? . And not a footfall ? I alone ? 
What means it? Were it gray old dawn of day, 
I'd have the explanation in my wine-cups ; 
But, lo ! 'Tis only evening, and my head's 
As clear as cowbell flower or buttercup 
In daisied meads. My three green loves, Dolores, 
Moreno, and my cousin rare, have turned 
My head; I'm drunk with interlacing sweets; 
I'm dreaming, or 't 's hallucination strange. 
No Priest of Saturn here ? What doth it mean ? 
'Tis strange, aye, strange. It mimes with gaunt old meanings 
And 's \varnin[i unto me in all my loves. 



THE LADY OF SANTA ROSA 95 

I'll hence to Santa Rosa's house, hi Cadiz, 
And he shall tell me of this new Atlantis. 
Enter Prince Henrique. 
Henrique. Ha, ha ! And fools do dream upon their 
legs, 
Their eyes yvide staring. Priest of Saturn ! Ha, 
My feathered lord, he's dead these thousand years. 

Don Mlg. What villain clown is this? {^Drawing his 

szvord.) 
Henrique. 'Tis Prince 

Henrique ! 
Don Mig. A prince ? Forsooth ! 

Henrique. A prince, forsooth ! 

Don Mig. A 

coward ! 
Henrique. Dost lose thy courtly temper? 
Don Mig. Aye, false 

prince I 
Henrique. At home, and such a coui'tier lord as thou 
Had tasted this late red Damascus blade. 

Don Mig. A quarrel's not for time nor place. 
Henrique. Then 

cross ! 
Don Mig. My basket-hilted sword is good as thine ; 
So, have a care, and guard thy treacherous heart ; 
And back, or I shall run thee through, petard ! 

Henrique. Thy guard, Sir Boaster, or thy Spanish 
blood 
Shall dve thy footing-place. 

Don Mig. 'Tis thine to win. 

If so thou handle thy good sword. Come, prince ! 
i^They fence rapidly for a moment. Henriqlte suddenly 
drazus hack. 



96 THE LADY OF SANTA IJOSA 

Henrique. Thou art a prett\- swordsman. 

Don Mig. So art thou. 

Henriq}ie. Come, let's be friends ; we seem of liker 
metal ; 
And here's mv hand. 

Don ^lig- And mine in kindly token. 

Henrique. Now tell me who thou ai't : because one man 
Alone in Spain can wield the sword like thee. 

Don J/ig. His name.'' 

Henrique. Don Miguel de Santa Rosa 

Granada. 

Don ^lig. 'Tis mine own name ; and but one 
Can face me, sire, as thou hast. 'Tis the son. 
Plumed sirrah ! of the Duke of old Medina- 
Sidonia. Art thou he, a stranger here.'' 

Henrique. I am ; and we shall have no further quarrel 
Until some gypsy maid divide her love. 
But, hark. The Priest of Saturn was thy theme; 
And wast thou fooling with thy courtly self.'' 

Don ^lig. Not I ; for Anso walked these boards to- 
night, 
And only on your quick arrival went. 

Henrique. Beneath the eaves I heard thv talk, and saw 
No man, not e'en the semblance of a ghost ; 
And to myself I said : This man's a fool, 
For he doth prate of love to hoary shadows ; 
He talks of dancing girls of wild Gitano 
Blood. 

Don Mig. Careful I 

Henrique. ^\\(\. of some Dolores fair. 

Don Mig. My sword is itching for patrician blood. 

Henriq?ie. Thine easy angers mav cost blood, and thine ! 



THE LADY OF SANTA ROSA 97 

Don Mig. Defy me not, O false and foreign prince ! 

Heni'iqite. And further in this rare delightful story, 
We hear of Inez. To thine old guitarra 
Dost sing: O wild Lolita ? 

Don Mig. Dost thou toy ? 

Henrique. And thjn on softer strings, in cadence rare, 
O, dear Dolores, fair Dolores. 

Don Mig. Scoundrel ! 

Henrique. And then a string to love, e'en pathos tuned : 
Oh, fairest Inez, angels guai'd thy couch. 

Don Mig. Hast come to Spain to lose thy foreign 
blood ? 

Henrique. And ail thy loves were queen : Moreno 
wild ; 
Dolores fair, and Inez rare. 

Don Mig. Get hence, 

Or draw ! 

Henrique. My sword.? Nay, Cupid draws his courtier, 
His blatant lord, and with a spider string 
So fine, my Miguel deems he leads the battle. 
Have done with such sweet folly, for 'tv^ill sour thee ; 
Give sleepless nights, a lusty, fool-hard temper ; 
A spite for quarrels with a saucy style. 

Don Mig. Sir, were I not so late in priestly presence, 
A foreign prince had bit our Spanish dust. 

Henrique. I've come not here to brew a Spanish 
quarrel ; 
My heart is love ; my sword is love ; my thought. 
Come, com^, Don Miguel, wilt share thy loves? 
Let wild Lolita be my gypsy iTj-mph. 

Don Mig. Prince, take her ; I've no quarrel for Moreno. 

Henrique. Two loves are more than feast, e'en for a 



•'S THE LADY OF SANTA KOSA 

lord ; 
So, let the Donna Inez be my prize. 

Don Mig. When babes in years, our fathers plighted us. 

Uetiriqzie. Then even she shall be my wedless bride.? 

Do7z Mig. A thousand yeses. She's my cousin fair. 

Henriqtie. My titles, Miguel, are high as thine. 

Do7i Mig. No doubt can enter. 

Henrique. For the doors are shut. 

But tell me, are we not well met? 

Don Mig. As courtiers? 

Henrique. And swordsmen of the finest ardor? 

Don Mig. Aye ! 

He7trique. And so of every capon v\^e must share 
A leg. 

Don Mig. And half and half of wing and breast. 

Henrique. But thou shalt have the tail, for thou art last. 

Don Alig. I read thy sarcasm in thy words and manners ; 
Yet dare resolve this riddle ; for my business 
Doth draw me hard. 

Henrique. And e'en as hangman's rope. 

Don Mig. Hark, sirrah ! I have done with innuendoes. 

He7irique. Then draw, and briefest time shall settle it ! 
( They commence action., zvhen with a scream., Lolita Mo- 
reno springs betxveen the?n. 

Lolita. Oh, Miguel, don't lose thy life for such ! 

Henrique. What jade is this? 

Lolita. A dancing girl of Spain I 

Don Mig. And I '11 defend her with my life. Aside ! 

Henrique. Wilt draw thy sword for such astrumpet? 

Lolita. ' Yes ! 

Henrique. Then faretheewell, mv doughty hei^o. Bve ! 

{Ex. HENRiq_UE. 



THE LADY OF SANTA KOSA 99 

Lolita. And never cast thy shadows more in Spahi. 
Don Mig. Lolita, mind him not ; my love for thee 
Is boisterous as the brooks of Cadiz. 

Lolita. Yes. 

Don Mig. And evei' shall my sword defend thee, darling. 
Come, let me lead thee to this rustic seat, 
And with mine old guitarra will w^e while 
A passing hour, and in such songs to thee, 
That dark Moreno's heart shall beat in tune; 
And then the grave old saraband may dance. 
There, my Gitano, what is this but loving? 
If every courtier, duke or titled lord, ^ 

Should act his heart, the dancing girls of Spain 
Would lead them to the altar. Now a dance. 
And o'er the silk and silver strings I '11 wander. 
While featly thou wilt foot it like a sylph. 

Lolita. Love 's blind ; but I will dance his old fandango. 

i^Dances. 
Don Mig. Ha, that is fine as Moorish maid, Moreno. 
Lolita. And does my dancing please Don Miguel ? 
Don Mig. Better than courtly lady, beauty fair. 
Lolita. I'm gladdened if so great a lord is pleased. 
Doji Mig. Now sing with thy wild sweet voice, and 
thy race 
Will glor}' in thy loveliness, while I 
Do drink thy rapturous beauty dark and rare. 

'Loli'ia. I dance for thee ; I sing to thee, for love ! 
( Sings. 

SONG. 
A courtier knight, a Spanish lord, 

Doth love Moreno fair. 
And on the old guitarra, love, 



100 THE LADY OF SANTA HOSA 

We'll sing her beauty rare. 

CHORUS. 

Oh sing tra la, 

Oh sing tra lee. 
On old guitar, 
On old guitar, 

In love's med-lce. 
Moreno is a dancing girl. 

The rarest of her kind. 
She floats with airy pirouette. 
With magic of the wind. 

CHO. 

Her e3-es are black, her skin is dark, 

Her soul is in her e3'es, 
Her beauty is the beauty, love, 

Of' starr}^ midnight skies. 

CHO. 

Don Mig. Thy song is beautiful as thine own self. 
(Alberti, her gypsy lover ^ suddenly enters. 

Albert L What hound is this? {Tanking Moreno to 
her feet. 

Moreno, art thou mad? 
Sir villain, draw thy sword, and skill shall tell ! 
Thy courtier blood is blue, but mine is red. 
So, villain, draw ! 

LoUta. Alberti, back ! He 's master. 

Alberti. Black wench, aside, or m}-^ Gitano* blood 
Shall vent its ire on thee ! 

Do7i Mig. Go pluck his sleeve. 

And lead him from this amphitheatre ; 
I'd sob to shed his blood. Poor man, his love 
Ilath made him mad. And such a man as he; 



THE LADY OF SANTA KOSA 101 

So tall, so dark, with raven, curly locks, 
And whiskers like a pirate's. Lola, go ! 
His love is gold to mine of silver. Lead 
The way, and never shall a lord dare sing 
Another song of love on Spain's guitar • 
To airy dancing maid, Moreno Lola. 

Alberti. But, let me at the scoundrel, maid Gitano. 

Lolita. Alberti, have no word with him ; he's kind 
To dancing girls like me. I 'ra sure his soul 
Is pure. My love should pacify Alberti. 

Alberti. For once it shall ; but ere she lead me hence, 
Bold knave, a word with thee. Once touch a hair 
Of my Moreno's head, and young Granada's 
Blood — But, I go. Moreno, lead me out. {^Ex. both. 

Don Mig. A booby. Faugh ! I should have run him 
thro' ; 
But, no — Poor fool, he loves her with his heart, 
While I with touch of sensuality ; 
I 'd kill the dog should he molest me further. 
But faugh ! I've bigger fish than such as he. 
This foreign prince hath something of the rascal ; 
And yet a kind of fascination. He 
Doth puzzle me. 'Twei-e luck, since but for this, 
Our quarrel had assumed a deadly ending. 
{He turns to pass out., when he is met by Inez, who is in 
half mask. 

Inez. Don Miguel ? 

Don Mig. Yes, Inez, and thy lover. 

But why dost come } The hour is late, and scoundrels 
Begin their wicked tramps, with darkness as 
Disgviise. A maid so delicate as thou 
Should hie her home to mother's covering wing. 



102 THE l.ADY OK SANTA ROSA 

But, look ! Thou art disguised I Why domino 
On face so fair? 'Tis love and jealousy 
Upon a rampage. Pray, wilt tell thy lord ? 

Inez. Dost know a coarse Gitano dancing girl? 

Don j\Iig. Ha, ha I and so god Cupid leads my lassie? 
Too good, too good ! Pray, Inez, let me dare 
Remove thy domino ; for thou art passing 
Fair; lily beauty from some tropic clime ; 

A house-plant watered by the tears of lovers. (^Removes mask. 
Thou art too fair ; and every noble eye 
Will bear me out in't. So, a dancing gypsy 
Hath robbed my lady of her quiet. Ha, 
Love oft hath made a crown of thorns. But, Inez, 
Go rest in peace ; I'm true as Polar star ; 
My love is clear and pure as Polar night ; , • 

The glittering Polar stars his anadem. 

Inez. I will confess my love for thee hath led 
Me out, and in such hour that I do tremble. 

Don Mig. But be no more aroused ; for such a lo\'e 
As mine can guard thee all thy livelong days. 
And make thy life a running ditty. Come, 
Let's forth. But, stay; a Peter for thy Paul. 
Didst notice in thy nightly rambles. Prince 
Henrique, dressed in faultless foreign garb, 
W^ith such emboldened air and iced exterior. 
That frigid smiles did play across his features? 

Inez. I met a courtly man as tall as thou, 
With such degree of court politeness that — 

Don Mig. That what? 

Inez. He turned aside and circled 

round 
Me, lifting such a hat of loveliness, 



THE LADY OF SANTA ROSA 103 

I could but change my courtly etiquette 
With him. 

Don Mig- Then will we toss a penny, love ; 
For, 'tween us is a bow, a Spanish song. 
Fair Inez, are we not at quits? 'Tis so; 
I^olita danced and sang for me ; the prince, 
Ha, doffed his hat and circled round thee so ! {Imitating. 

Inez. Restore my mask, and I will hie me hence 
And nevermore go watching. Wilt forgive me? 

Don Mig. And with a kiss, if stage propriety 
Forbade it not. But thought is deed for such. 
When marriage crowns us, and old Hymen lights 
Us to our bridal couch, then shall our kisses 
Re-echo to the night, and gossips hear 
No echoings. But, let me be thy knight ; 
For clouds have curled across the sky, and stars 
Twinkle behind impenetrable darkness, 
The sad round moon illuming but in vain. 

Inez. If other business call thee, night for me 
Hath not a frighting harm. My love is brave. 

Don Mig. {Aside.) 'Twill be a hero if in battle for 
Granada's heart ! 

7nez. ■ Wast speaking, Miguel ? 

Don Mig. One only thought, but thou wert in it, Inez. 
But, come. I'll be thy starless night escort ; 
And dancing girl or prince durst cross our path, 
I'll have the right of deadly arbitration I 

Enter Middle. 
What knave of trumps is this? Our worthy clown. 

Middle. They call me Middle. Why? The fool is in 
The middle. But, now begging clownly pardons, 
I just rubbed up against a courtly fool, 



104 THE LADY OF SANTA ROSA 

If fool can see a fool, Don Miguel. 

Don Mig. What! cursed Henrique? Fool! Thy 
hand, fair Inez ; 
Since I would lead thee from such paltry prince. 
Old trovible goes a-brewing night and day, 
And rises from the clown to lord or prince. (^Leads her ojit. 

Aliddle. A fool by nature I, but he through love. 
I sleep and dream because I know no better; 
They lie awake and di"eam because of love. 
That I could be as wise as he for seconds, 
To know just how a self-made fool doth feel. 
Ah ! enters love's true pattern of a man, 
And something near as pretty as a girl ; 
And yet a man, a human, human man, 
I'll get behind the wing, and fool-like listen 
To life's dear love-made fool. One fool 't to time ; 
Enter, my wise apportioned counterpart. (^Hides behind the 
wing. Efiter Prince Henrique. 

Hetirique. Was never such a lovely maid in all 
The realm of Spain. She raised her domino ; 
But haply that I were some other lord ; 
Perchance, this proud Granada. Ha, ha, ha ! 
'A triple villain truly. Three strange loves ; 
One, Lola, a Gitano dancing girl. 
With such a midnight beauty, e'en old courtiers 
Find their dull heai'ts a-pounding 'gainst their sides. 
And Inez. For some old hidalgo gossips 
Did prate the secrets of the town because, 
Forsooth ! lama master of the sword. 
And hied me from a foreign land with suite 
Of lovely gentlemen that beggar art. 
What foolish men we women are. A hoax ? 



THE I.ADY OF SANTA ROSA 105 

I mean we men turned womanish by women. 
Ha, ha, there's Miguel ; a Spanish hero, 
As brave as Cassar; master of the sword ; 
A glorious good companion ; wit and wine 
His mottoes ; ever ready at a need ; 
Sharing his last pistole; and yet I dub him 
A pickaninny dressed to please the fair. 
Out on a pickpurse lord like him. I'm tired 
Seeing brave men still tied to ladies' skirts. 
Ah 1 here's a maudlin fool ; old nature did it. 

Enter Middle, grinning. 
Well, well, thou leering ninny, why hast come? 

Middle. Because my legs would argue 'gainst my mind. 

Henrique. Legs.? Middle, poor are legs in argument. 

Middle. A clownly pardon. But thou'lt hear a clown } 

Henrique. A fool or clown, 'tis all the same to princes. 

Middle. I stole a capon from the roosting. 

Henrique. Well. 

Middle. My legs were wiser than a lord; they ran. 

Henrique. And that was all thy lawyer's argument ? 

Middle. Nay; for I fed my legs down thro' my mouth. 

Henrique. Devoured the chicken r 

Middle. Yea ; and crowed 

for more. 

Henrique. How so ? 

Middle. The chicken was a rooster, sir. 

Henrique. Thou art a fool indeed, a very fool. 

Middle. But had Henrique my two legs, 'twere well. 

Henrique. Pray tell me ere thy blood's upon my sword ! 

Middle. He would have run away from maid Dolores. 

Henrique. But I do know her not. Explain, thou fool ! 

Middle. All men do bow to Qiiecn Dolores, sir. 



106 THE LADV OF SANTA ROSA 

Henrique. And so must I needs take to paltry legs? 

Middle. Yea ; trust thy legs in love for all thy heart ; 
For legs in love have more of earthly wisdom. 

Henrique. Don Miguel hath several loves, dear clown. 

Middle. Then several times as big a fool as thou. 

Henrique. And both his legs have failed to extricate 
him ? 
But hence! I'm fooling with mv heart's true lo\e ; 
And as the saying is : One fool't to time. 

Middle. I go ; but when did love e'er get along 
Witliout his fool? 

Enter IxEZ. 

Inez. Dear Middle, who is this? 

Middle. A man, if still he be a prince. Miss Inez. 

Henrique. A thousand princely pardons, senorita. 

Inez. Senor, I am intrusive ; I'll withdraw. 

Henrique. Thou hast such art and life's divinitv. 
No foreign lord could fail to bow to thee. 
Enter Dolores. 

Dolores. And here are maidens fair and vcrv line; 
But handsome gentlemen call me divine ! 

Henrique. O what a beauty of a woman, Inez. 

Inez. Indeed, as loveh' as a bridal rose. 

He)/rique. A Spanish lass — {^Ejiter'^liGWA. s?iddenlv, 
drawing his szvord. 

Do7i Mig. Ho ! draw, thou paltr\' villain. 

And Inez and Dolores be the judges ! 

Middle. I'll get my bandage ; soon two bloods will flow. 

Inez. Don Miguel, put up thy coward sword. 

IIe)trique. Or mine shall spill tin- treacherous blood, 
l)old prince I 
( Tliey fence. As ^\\c,v^A. falls from a tJirust ., into the ar?ns 



THE LADY OF SANTA ROSA 107 

of Dolores, Moreno rushes between them^ wotinded 
by MiGXj'EiJsJJying-sivord, but is cattght in the arjns 
of Alberti, \^^7. faint ing and falling into the arms 
of Henrique, the clowii staring in a corner. 

CURTAIN FALLS. 



MY AIDENN 



MY AIDENN. 

Oh have you seen my castle ? 

Ah me ! down by the sea ; 
My castle, tasseled castle, 

And built so wondrously. 
Built on a plan of beaut}'^ 

Surpassing any dream, 
My tessellated castle 

With silver joist and beam ? 

A window^ facing heaven 

Where brightest angels be, 
My fairy, airy castle 

Fronting the restless sea. 
Aye restless w^hen I'm sleeping, 

Sleeping my sleep of love, 
With sands and waters round me, 

And eve's one star above. 

For architect a Cupid 

With newly-fledged wing, 
So beauty, beauty, beauty, 

And I the crowned king ! 
A king in such a kingdom, 

I'm happy at the thought, 
I'm happy in this kingdom, 

There is no happiOT spot ! 



11^ MV AIDENN 

I have a priceless Raphael, 

Raphael and Keats and Keats, 
I have all kinds of music, 

A nook with rustic seats, 
Cupids in silver fountains. 

And o'er my fabric whole. 
And o'er my glorious fabric 

The beauty of the soul. 

The sea-mew moaneth, crieth, 

Crieth for joy all da}-. 
In undertone the breakers 

Moan out a roundelay. 
Moan out, and yet a ditty 

As soft as sigh or kiss. 
It seems to me, it seemeth 

Here in this vale of bliss. 

New veiny shells and pebbles 

Washed by a thousand waves, 
A thousand waves in trebles. 

In little bars and staves, 
^ Roll at my feet, and to them 

I sa}' : "O ocean shell 
And pebble, what's your mission, 

A kiss or faretheewell ?" 

I fondle ; unreplying, 

They shine and sparkle so, 
Sparkle and shine so wondrous. 

Oh be it yea or no ? 
Yea, shall I fondle, linger? 

Since in my dreams with thee, 
I hear a fjir off music 

Intonccf by the sea. 



MT AIDENN lie 

Is't love ? I'm not so foolish ; 

My castle ! Ah, too true, 
No maiden fair or elfish 

Shall dare dispute with yon ; 
For, hear me, stone and mortar. 

Mortar and groined stone, 
My castle's for a hermit, 

I'd live here all alone. 

A skiff, a boat so dainty 

'Twould tip with Cupid in, 
A Ivdlaby is playing : 

"We have no kith and kin !" 
And so I'm free as breakers, 

Bi-eakers with crests of foam. 
That sparkle, flash and shimmer 

Around my castle home. 

Around my castle lordly, — 

And O the peace to me ! 
And O the music in me ! 

The music of the sea ; 
So glorious, olden, golden, 

My castle wondrous fair, 
So olden, golden, glorious, 

Divinity is there ! 

Architrave and rafter, 

Rafter and lintel too. 
The corbel old, fantastic, 

No mortal more could do ; 
Demoniac spirits come not, 

Demoniac elfs are far. 
The beauty that is o'er me 

Is made of moon and star. 



114 MY AIDKNN 

I dine with rosy nectar 

Winking with l)iibbly eyes. 
Ah me ! I have ambrosia, 

And wines from sunny skies ; 
I ])nm my beakers, beakers, 

My beakers lined with gohl. 
The wine I quaff's delicious, 

Delicious in cobwebs old. 

I fondle Poe in visions, 

In visions with him lie. 
Our onl}^ golden poet ! 

Our only? Tell me whv? 
Verlainc in rhythmic nimibcrs. 

With haunting melodies. 
Weird melodies fantastic, 

Sad, sombre, elfish glees. 

With rapturous, beauteous music, 

Yea, beauteous, too, as death. 
When new love's loveliest maidcn- 

Ilush I giveth up her breath I 
With cadence dripping glorious 

The red, red wines of thought. 
With heaven and hell contending 

In l)eauties he has wrought. 

And so the winged sunshine 

Chases the shadows grim. 
Chases from nook and corner, 

Till wraiths, ah, faint and slim. 
As apparitions, haunt me, 

Spirits of those I knew ; 
But, O delicious, luscious, 

Tt) be with such as \()u I 



MY AIDKNN 115 

Against my window, music, 

Fantastic, half divine, 
Divine and heavenly wondrous, 

Sparkling like beaded wine, 
White wine that makes capricious 

Dream-fancies unto me. 
Until I laugh ecstatic. 

Demoniac in my glee. 

Taine, Lamb, Montaigne and Zangwill, 

Yea, glorious are to me. 
The friends I love, the friendships 

Best for their rarity ! 
As scarce as Brownings, Shelleys, 

A Coleridge, yea, a Poe ; 
But well-a-way, I'm happy, — 

The sea-wave boometh low. 

The sea-wave is my organ. 

My emerald minstrelsv. 
In undertone majestic. 

In horrid revelry ; 
In cadent, rhythmic numbers, 

Diversified for me. 
Come o'er me, to me, to mc, 

These ballads of the sea. 

So, here I'd live forever. 

Forever, yea and aye, 
With nothing diabolic. 

Nothing to slay or fiay ; 
Great ships with sails outbellied, 

White glistening on the wave. 
White glistening like a phantom. 

Sail on with runic stave. 



116 MY AIDKNN 

j^nd I am left forever 

In castle by the sea, 
With organ tones majestic. 

Buried in majest}-, 
Buried in hoary glories, 

Glories of wind and wave. 
And should I die angelic, 

Let ocean he mv grave ! 



SONG OF THE SEA SHELL 



SONG OF THE SEA SHELL 

Through diamond sands I wander 

In olden glories lost, 
In old fantastic beauties, 

Holding a shell embossed 
With many a wavy nodule, 

A message- shell to me, 
A message from the ages. 

And tell-tales of the sea, 

I sit me wayward, curious, 

Curious in phantas}', 
O'erfilled with revelations, 

And love-songs of the sea, 
And love-songs, ditties olden, 

Olden like corked wine. 
The wine of tipsy Bacchus, 

Reveling with maids divine. 

And as I sit, my sea-shell 

Telleth a tale to me, 
A song, a song, a love-song, 

The mystery of the sea ; 
A song so weird, so elfish. 

Elfish and weird and fine, 
I clasp it for its glory. 

Its tell-tales of the brine. 



120 SONG OK THK SKA SHELL 

I kiss it, who niav know it: 

Perchance a mermaid queen. 
With rapturous kiss ecstatic. 

Kissed it in ocean's g'reen ; 
Yea, kissed it with a passion, 

A passion mermaids know, 
Down, down in ocean kingdoms. 

Where moon-tides ebb and flow. 

Where mermen, mermaids wander 

In ocean jubilee, 
Shelis, carcanet, fantastic, 

And rare festivity ; 
Where grottoed reefs of coral. 

Corals by insects built, 
Sparkle and shimmer, sjDarkle 

Like diamonds on a hilt. 

So, tell me, ocean, ocean, 

vSo. tell me, empty shell. 
What secret hast thou, hast thou? 

What secret hast to tell ? 
I hold you, and I hear you. 

Singing a song, a song. 
Who made your ocean music 

That singeth all day long? 

1 found you on the seashore 

liuried in sifting sand. 
Oh did you hie from India? 

Or is't your native strand? 
A weird hallucination. 

Fantastic as a dream, 
llaunteth my soul, O Sea-shell ! 

With eyanesc(5nt gleam. 



S<1\(4 OF THE .SKA SHKLL 121 

Did ocean queen e'er string you. 

And play old roundelays? 
Rondels of cavallieros, 

In olden, golden davs? 
What pearls have heard your music ? 

Yoiu- song is never old, 
A thousand years 'twill murmur 

To ages yet untold. 

And yet I cannot solve you, 

Your song is hid from me, 
Within your minstrel bosom 

Is hid your melody ; 
Your song is never ending, — 

What other age shall hear? 
O will 3-ou e'er be voiceless, 

And silent to the ear? 



HELL AND HEAVEN 



HELL AND HEAVEN 

They drag me hellward, mother, 
They drag me hellward aye, 

They drag me hellward, hellward, 
They drag me though I pray ; 

I see them idiotic, — 

how their red eyes gleam ! 
Their power, oh 'tis despotic, 

Tlrey seize me in my dream ! 

I try to shape and fashion 

A manner of escape, 
But devils diabolic, 

They mime and stare and gape. 
Till beads of perspiration 

Rush startled to mv face, 
O horrid, weird damnation 

Translate me from this place. 

But, nay, the crowned goblet 

Is pressed to my lip, 
•'Taste, mortal, weary mortal. 

Yea, take a human sip I" 
But, nay, I dash it from me, 

1 see the shattered glass ; 
"•Get hence, uncertain shadows, 

I go to holy mass !" 



124 llKI.l, AMI IIKAVKN 

But, Mother Mary, mother. 

Good an<»-el.s k'iss my brow, 
Kiss me, angelic, rapturous, 

And 'tice me heavenward now ; 
IMicir white wnngs fan ni}- curtains. 

An odor comes to me, 
As from a swinging censer 

Hung in eternity ! 

"O how the music phiyctli ! — 

Thev bear me to the skv, — 
Oh let me dream in odors. 

In dreamland let me lie." 
''But, na}', you conquered, mortal. 

The miming devils lost ; 
Your dream will end in heaven, 

You won at any cost !" 

So, hell and heaven's contention, 

Mangled, but left me free, 
As winged bird in ether, 

As sea-mew o'er the sea ; 
As bee on swinging floweret, 

A pure, a perfect whole, 
And 'spite of hell, demonian, 

•Heaven won a perfect soul ! 



AMABEL 



AMABEL 

Her eyes were as the star-shine. 

When skies are blue, so bhic, 
Amabilis, my love-queen, — 

O for a -world like you ! 

I love you, love you, love you, 

Amabilis, my Bel, 
Down deeply in my bosom. 

Deeper adovvn than hell ! 

x\ll night-time in my spirit, 

When clouds go hide and seek. 

With her I go ; seraphic,— 
She loves me if she speak ; 

But when the veils of morning 

By angels are withdrawn. 
By angels, holy angels. 

My idol maid is gone ! 

Last e'en I saw an angel, 

But now I go to her ; — 
I start and stare theatinc ! — 

Must love drink myrrh, love's nivrrh P 



12S 



Love's aberration, ' ation. 

Is in her lovely eve ; 
My God. my God, mv Jesus, 

Drop mercy from the sk\- 1 

'•'My Amabel, a demon, 

A demon wicked, fell, 
Has ta'en your reason, reason, 

My spotless Amabel I 

•'(3h horrid aberration! 

So wicked, cruel, fell. 
You've ta'en her perfect reason. 

Amabilis, mv Bel I" 

Oh eyes! oh where your meaniii2^? 

Where love in loveliness? — 
Now waits hallucination 

To kill Amabilis ; 

To kill where lo\e made beauty. 

A beauty \o\e could sec ; 
IJut, ah ! this dissolution, 

The living death to me ! 

I try to win love-glances, ] 

The poem of her face, 
The poem only love's eyes 

In love can fondlv trace : 

^\h me ! I'm but a stranger, — 

What made her love me so. 
And then with toppling reason. 

Turn eves that do not know? 



121) 



I take her hand ; ecstatic, 

I fondle and caress, 
I touch her lips with kisses, — 

She stares. O my distress ! 

I show the old love fondness ; 

I cry: "My Amabel !" 
Her love has said : " 'Tis over ; 

It is our last fai-ewell !" 

Then reason made her beauty ? — 

As marble is she fair ! 
A Greek Slave in her beauty, 

But life is wanting there ! 

Her eye is unresponsive, 
• Her cheek ? — the rose is gone ; 
Oh great world, you are empty. 
Though you may jangle on ! 

Come back in marble whiteness, 

O soul of Amabel, 
Come back to love's dear palace. 

Come back, forever dwell 

In love's dear tabanacle, 

In love's cathedi'al home ; 
For where a lovelier prison ? 

Come back, white soul ! don't roam. 

But sackcloth, dust and ashes, 
Her eye will shine no more; 

Her eye, her face are vacant. 
Vacant forevermore ; 



130 



So, what is love r Who knoweth : 
She loved, but now loves not ; 

I am a perfect stranger, — 
My love she has forgot ! 

So, to mv love's dominion 
Came imps of horrid dread. 

Came to my love's dominion, 
Till Amabel lies dead ! • 

Yea, dead to love and loving. 

And dead to even me ; 
So, faretheewell, my darling, 

Love's last farewell to thee I 



FINIS. 



ind by the 



t= jgagfe-riw^fcL 




